


Tangled Together

by communikate



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Keith/Lance (Voltron), Established Relationship, Five Stages of Grief, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Keith and Lance as parents, Kid Fic, M/M, Mild Language, Sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 17:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13105248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/communikate/pseuds/communikate
Summary: Lance and Hunk had made plans for the future, a million innocent plans, but death doesn't care about plans or hopes or aspirations. So Lance had to make new plans in the aftermath of the car crash that took Hunk and Shay’s lives.And after being married for five years, Keith and Lance adopt Hunk and Shay's newly-orphaned daughter, Abigail, following her parents last wishes. But between struggling to learn how to be fathers to a traumatized toddler and dealing with their own unexpected loss, it might be more than they can handle - by themselves, or as a couple.





	1. Denial and Isolation

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my angst fest!!
> 
> Hope you enjoy <3

###### 

There is nothing more terrifying than a 3am phone call with whispered words and muffled sobs.

  


The only thing grounding him was the firm grip of his husband’s hand in his, tensed fingers and warm, familiar palm. His shoulders shook with the force it took to hold back the tears as each breath caught in his throat. He swallowed, plastering a fragile smile on his face as he walked toward Mrs. Garrett, standing by the entrance of the small Church. She looked frail, her curls pinned back and dressed in a simple black dress that dulled her tanned skin, and immensely small standing under the large stained glass windows and arches of the entrance.

Keith glanced out of the corner of his eye, struggling to find something to say to Lance - he’d been struggling since that phone call and rushed car ride last week. But there were no words. He squeezed Lance’s hand and marched them forward.

“Lance,” Mrs. Garrett called with a weak, watery smile. Lance let go of Keith’s hand and embraced the woman who felt as familiar as home. “Thank you for coming.” Her shoulders trembled with each word she spoke.

He pulled away, placing his warm hands on her shoulders, “Of course.” He heard his voice break. He cleared his throat and smiled weakly, “I wouldn’t miss it.” Mrs. Garrett’s wife placed a gentle hand on her back, glancing up at Lance with strong eyes and a steady heart.

“It’s good to see you both,” Mrs. Garrett’s wife spoke.

Keith stepped up beside Lance, extending a hand. “It’s good to see you as well. I wish it was under different circumstances.” Mrs. Garrett nodded and brought him in for an unexpected hug. Keith exhaled lightly in shock, meeting her wife’s eyes and nodding slightly. He gently folded his arms across her back, already missing the comfort of Hunk’s hugs.

The overwhelming scent of lilies drifted on the breeze through the open doors of the church. Keith pulled back from the hug, giving Mrs. Garrett a weak smile to hide the rapid acceleration of his breath. He swallowed the panic that brought pins and needles to his fingertips. Glancing back to Lance, Keith saw him greeting members of Shay’s family who stood just inside the arched doorways to the church, clad in black like shadows.

Nodding to Mrs. Garrett and her wife, Keith followed Lance inside the church.

All too soon they were ushered into pews, watching as Rax march up the aisle to the podium that stood next to the altar, decorated with white lilies and pictures of Hunk and Shay.

Shiro sat tall next to Keith, keeping his composure even when the smell of lilies was so strong it made Keith nauseous. Lance’s hand was a fixture that kept him from sinking too deeply into memories, but watching Rax shuffle papers on the podium and find his confidence to speak made Keith want to drift away.

“Thank you all for coming today. As per Hunk’s oddly specific instructions, there are his famous cupcakes in the reception hall.” There was a small chuckle from the crowd, because of course Hunk would plan something like that. “There’s also a personal cookbook of Hunk’s recipes for sale, and all of the profits go to Abigail’s college fund.”

Rax smiled lightly before shifting the papers on the wooden podium. “When I first met Hunk, as Shay’s protective older brother, I only thought the best of him.” Several in the crowd laughed, Lance included, remembering how Hunk had paced around his kitchen distraught over the fact that Rax didn’t like him. And since Hunk’s favorite method of destressing was baking, Lance was the designated taste-tester for a wealth of new creations - some better than others - that night.

“In all honesty, I thought he was a bad influence for Shay. But I’m glad that I couldn’t have been more wrong. Hunk Garrett was one of the most genuine and caring individuals I’ve ever had the opportunity and pleasure to meet. He was a builder, a creator, and a chef. He was someone who took the little things in life and made them infinitely more. It was that ounce of love that he poured into everything he devoted himself to -- his baking, his job, his friends and family -- that made everything he did so special.

“I hope you buy Hunk’s cookbook, not because it’s for a good cause, but because Hunk would’ve wanted you to keep eating his food. I’m not the first person he’s won over with food alone. And even though we all may not be able to add that extra ounce of love like Hunk, we can try to treat each other as Hunk treated us.”

Keith’s eyes darted to the front pew of the church where Mrs. Garrett and her wife and Shay’s mother, father, and grandmother sat. Mrs. Garrett held a small flailing toddler in her arms. The two year old ripped off her fuzzy coat and threw it to the ground in a small tantrum. Mrs. Garrett stroked her hair to calm her, eyes fixated on Rax.

“Shay always spoke volumes about how wonderful of a husband and father he was. And if any of you has spent a moment with Abigail, you’ll understand.” There was the echo of a small tear-filled laugh throughout the church.

“Shay always saw the best in people and dreamed of a world where freedom was paramount. The day she learned she was pregnant was one of the happiest days in her life. I say one of the happiest days, because I’m sure that all of you saw her on her wedding day.”

Lance closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. He could still see the look on Hunk’s face, the mix of awe and pure love, as Shay walked down the aisle. Her deep brown hair had been braided away from her face, interwoven with small flowers. Lance glanced away from the glowing bride toward his best friend from his place as best man.

He had never seen Hunk look more joyful.

A broken sob drew Lance’s attention to Mrs. Garrett as she handed the toddler off to Shay’s mother seated beside her. Her chestnut brown hair cascaded in soft ringlets down her back and over the back of the pew and shook with her shoulders in muffled sobs.

Rax cleared his throat, “The night before the wedding, during her bachelorette party Shay called me. She was honestly drunk out of her mind, but anyone who has partied with Allura knows why.” Allura chuckled through tears as she gripped Shiro’s bicep with polished fingers, “She told me that she wanted the whole world to know that she was going to get married to the most magnificent man, and that I should order one of those - and I quote - ‘sky-writing planes that write in the sky like icing on a cake’ for the wedding. I obviously didn’t, but after the ceremony, she pulled me aside and asked where the plane was.”

The whole audience laughed. They knew how Shay was. Once she had an idea, she was more stubborn that anyone could imagine the expressive, exuberant woman to be.

“You can imagine her reaction when I told her I didn’t spend $4,000 on her drunken ravings.” Rax smiled at the thought and shifted the papers, “Shay was always like that, loving and helping wholeheartedly. She was a truly a wonderful person.”

Rax cleared his throat and took a minute to steel himself. “If you don’t remember anything else about Hunk and Shay Garrett, please remember how they loved each other and their daughter and every single one of us. Remember that they were the most generous and caring people. Remember that they would’ve wanted us to go live our lives to the fullest and love to the fullest of our hearts. God bless.” Rax finished and stepped down from the podium, papers crunching in his clenched hands.

Lance bit his lip and tried to fight the tears that he’d been battling for a week, but they cascaded down his cheeks anyway, breath catching in his throat and vision blurring.

Keith squeezed his husband’s hand harder, biting on his bottom lip. He yanked out his pocket square, aware it wasn’t actually wasn’t meant to be used as a handkerchief, and pushed it into Lance’s open palm.

Keith looked back up to the two closed caskets, giving his support to Lance in little squeezes of his hand and the gentle lean of his shoulder. Because he knew that if he looked at his husband any longer, he wouldn’t be able to maintain the little composure that he had.

The pastor came forward to the podium and motioned for them to stand, hands extended and expression soft. His voice was steady, “Hunk and Shay Garrett are already on their way to heaven to enjoy all that waits there. Let us say a final farewell to their bodies as we commit their physical form to its natural end.”

Lance shuddered against Keith’s arm, almost unable to hold himself up anymore. Keith pulled his hand from Lance’s and wound it around his thin waist instead. His husband nuzzled into his shoulder, soaking his freshly pressed suit with tears.

Keith’s chin trembled, pulling Lance in tighter, fingers digging into the soft flesh between Lance’s ribs. He tilted his chin up as Lance’s hands clawed at his jacket, holding on as his sobs brushed against the exposed skin of Keith’s neck.

Shiro reached out and threaded his fingers with Keith’s clenched fist, steadying both of them as their partners - the treasured best friends of the late Hunk and Shay Garrett - used them for support.

“Hunk and Shay, we bless you and thank you for being part of our lives. We honor your life on Earth and pray for your peace ever-after. We will not forget you. Go well on to the kingdom of heaven.” The pastor motioned for them to sit and said some final words.

Ripping his hand from Shiro’s, he quickly brushed away tears. But his fingers quietly found their way back to the comforting grip.

Keith had never been very religious, but he looked up at the cross mounted on the wall and he prayed. Prayed for himself and Lance and everyone who loved Hunk and Shay. Prayed for Abigail. Prayed for the future.

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


“This was what Hunk and Shay wanted, Lance,” Keith said, looking over the will with a cooling cup of coffee in one hand. Lance paced around the kitchen refusing to sit at the table with Keith.

The bags under his eyes had only darkened in the week since the funeral. Keith had felt how restless he was in bed, often waking to find Lance gone and the sheets cold. He sipped at his coffee, rereading the will from the top.

“I don’t understand why.” Lance pulled at his hair, “How old is the will anyway?”

“Two years,” Keith commented, not looking up.

“So right after Abigail was born.” There was a tense moment of silence as Lance gripped the back of a chair, fingers tense and white knuckled like he was the one driving the car that night. Lance’s voice was a faint whisper, announcing the truth that had been haunting them all morning, “I just don’t understand why Hunk and Shay would give us custody over Abigail.” Lance finally slumped in the chair across from Keith, arms crossed and gaze distant.

Keith set down his coffee cup and looked directly at Lance. “How many times did you talk about adoption with Hunk?” Lance shrugged, “How many times did Hunk and all of the parents from the daycare compliment you on your parenting skills? You know you would be an excellent father, Lance.”

“Yeah, but how,” Lance’s voice broke and a single tear traveled down his face, such an absurdly common sight for Keith now that neither of them moved to brush it away, “How am I supposed to raise Abigail when she looks so much like him? Have you seen the way she smiles Keith?” He slammed his palms down on the table, causing coffee to splatter on the scattered papers. “She smiles just like Hunk and laughs just like Shay. How am I supposed to look at her without thinking of them?”

Lance rubbed his hands down his face as if to hide the tears or his grief-stricken expression.

Jumping to his feet, Keith rounded the table, pulling Lance’s hands away from his face and cupping his cheeks with trembling hands. Lance hiccupped and sniffled, turning into the comforting touch of Keith’s heated palms. Keith’s voice was a whisper, broken and hoarse, “It’s okay to miss them. God, I fucking miss them too.”

Lance nodded against Keith’s grip, bringing a single hand up to brush away a stray tear on Keith’s cheek, fingers lingering against his skin. Keith wasn’t sure when he started crying, or wasn’t sure when he actually stopped.

“But I just keep thinking about how this is what Hunk and Shay wanted for Abigail,” Keith mumbled, “And all I want to do is say no, because if she’s not here then I can pretend we never got that call at 3am.” Keith ripped his hands away from Lance’s cheeks and clenched his hands in his hair, pulling at the root for some microm of sanity. “I can pretend that I can still call Hunk when the school has a bake sale. Or I could ask Shay how to handle a troubled kid or even how to handle the damn, catty English teachers in the teacher’s lounge.”

Lance laughed at that, a small fragile thing drifting in the air. Because it was true, the amount that they relied on Hunk and Shay, their constant comforting presence, their advice they were always too generously willing to give, their laughter and good-hearted jokes.

“But with Abigail here, I can’t pretend everything’s the same.” Keith slumped down onto the ground, back resting on the leg of the table. His eyes drifted up to Lance’s. Keith examined Lance’s features, the planes of his face, the tremble of his fingers, the tension in his shoulders, and the curve of his lips.

“Keith,” Lance questioned, leaning forward.

“You would be a great father, Lance.”

“So would you, daddy.” Lance laughed, poking Keith with his foot.

They sat in silence for a minute before Keith laughed. Lance laughed too, bright and colorful and masking the sullen silence and the hollowness of their chests.

Their laughter died, and Keith rose to his feet, jabbing Lance lightly in the stomach, “Never call me that, again.” But the smile didn’t fade from either of their faces for the rest of breakfast.

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


The next week was a flash of paperwork and moving vans and constant calls.

They moved the furniture out of the guest bedroom and painted it the soft green Shay had originally chosen for her daughter’s room. They moved in the small bed with railings on the side. Keith washed all of Abigail’s canary yellow bedding and made the bed, carefully arranging stuffed animals.

Lance arranged toy trunks in the room, filling them with the boxes of toys Hunk and Shay had bought for Abigail. He moved in and stocked the dresser and changing table unit with clothes and pull up diapers.

Keith started baby-proofing the house only for Lance find him on the floor rereading the directions with little torn bits of cardboard around him. His tongue stuck out between his lips and his brow was furrowed in deep concentration. Lance stifled a laugh. Keith turned quickly and threw the paper directions at him.

“You get it to work then!” Keith yelled, standing and thrusting the plastic clips into Lance’s hands.

Lance folded up the instructions and shoved them into his pocket without reading them. With a small laugh, he took the clips and fastened them around the handles to the cabinets. He turned around with a smile to find Keith scowling.

“I’m going to put together the rocking chair,” He huffed, and Lance was pretty sure he heard him mumble, “Of course the daycare worker wouldn’t need the instructions.”

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


Lance squeezed Keith’s hand as they stood on the stoop of their small apartment, dancing on the balls of his feet with nervous anticipation. The minivan pulled up, parallel parking on the curb in front of their house. Keith’s palm began to sweat as butterflies of anxiety danced around his rib cage.

Mrs. Garrett stepped out of the car, waving at the boys with a joyful smile on her face. Her hair was tied in a messy ponytail, the undyed greying roots of her hair and the deepened creases around her eyes beginning to show her age.

She opened the back, passenger-side door and unclipped Abigail from the car seat. Shifting Abigail up on her hip and closing the door with her one free hand, she turned with a wide smile and walked up the steps to Lance and Keith.

Keith parted his lips to say something - literally anything - but nothing came out except a small exhale of air. Lance tightened his grip on Keith’s hand before letting go and reaching forward for Abigail.

“Hello Mrs. Garrett.” Lance’s smile was still sullen, but more brilliant than Keith had seen it in weeks. Then Lance turned all of his attention onto Abigail, tickling one of her slippered feet, “And hi Abi!” She looked him over with wide chestnut eyes, fingers sticking in her mouth. Lance smiled at her, goofy and playful. She smiled wide and reached her hands out for him.

Mrs. Garrett handed her off, hands trailing along Abigail’s chubby legs and feet like she was regretting ever letting her go. Abigail palmed at Lance’s hair and smiled again, “Uncle Lans.” He shifted her up and smiled at her, hiding the slight flicker of pain across his expression.

“That’s right Abi. Do you remember Uncle Keith?”

She tilted her head to the side, sticking her fingers back into her mouth in contemplation. “Keef?” Keith nodded, taking a tentative step forward and stroking her arm with a single finger. She latched on with pudgy fingers and tiny nails, the other hand still clamped between lips.

Lance watched Keith’s chin tremble, biting his lip to stop a small sob. Keith nodded enthusiastically, “Yep. That’s me, Abigail.”

Mrs. Garrett put a gentle hand on Keith’s shoulder, smiling knowingly. “Why don’t we take this inside?”

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


Lance stood at the window with Abigail on his hip as they waved goodbye to Mrs. Garrett.

Keith sat at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, breathing unsteady and shoulders slumped. Lance set Abigail on the carpeted ground of the living room, and she started walking around the whole apartment, exploring. She had a yellow baby blanket grasped in her chubby fingers that dragged behind each wobbling step.

Lance watched her roam the living room and pull a couple of her toys out of a small chest Keith had built as an ottoman - with a lot of commentary about IKEA and bad instructions. She laughed when she pulled out a small stuffed teddy bear.

Lance’s breath caught in his chest at the sound.

“She really does laugh exactly like Shay,” Keith whispered, eyes fixated on Abigail. Lance nodded placing a steadying hand on Keith’s shoulder, massaging lightly as if to decrease both of their stress levels.

They watched Abigail play in the living room for a while just entranced by how joyful the little girl could be. She looked over and noticed them, expression curling into something contemplative before she jumped up to her unsteady feet. She grabbed a couple stuffed animals in her arms and ran into the kitchen.

But a stuffed red lion fell out of her grasp at the edge of the living room. With a small whine, she ran back and bent down to pick it up. The second she bent over, another toy dropped to the ground. She tucked the lion under her arm and reached for the dolphin on the floor. But in exchange for the dolphin, she dropped the lion with a small frustrated whimper.

Keith chuckled as Lance walked over to Abigail. He knelt in front of her, reaching to pick up the small lion. “No!” Abigail yelled, grabbing at Lance’s hand. Both boys were taken aback at her strong words.

She pointed to the lion, “Keef’s.” She pulled out a dolphin from her arms, leaving her with only the teddy bear, “Uncle Lans.” She placed her hands on her hips and smiled big when Lance took the dolphin. Lance smiled a weak, watery smile. Abigail grabbed the lion and ran over to Keith’s chair.

She pointed at Keith’s face and shook the red lion in her tiny, balled fist, “Keef’s.” Abigail stood on her tiptoes to push the stuffed animal into his lap.

“Thank you, Abigail.” Keith whispered, taking the stuffed red lion in his trembling hands.

She squeezed the teddy bear tight in her arms, “Play tea party wif me!” She pointed toward the living room with her chubby fingers. Keith nodded, and Abigail smiled so large and innocently that Keith’s heart constricted. She smiled just like Hunk. As wide and as pure and loving. And Keith’s chin trembled, but he didn’t want to cry in front of Abigail, didn’t want to fall apart on his first day of being a father.

Her smile didn’t fade as she grabbed at his hand and dragged them both into the living room.

Keith sat on the edge of the couch, enjoying watching Lance interact with Abigail and laughing at the small dolphin noises he made. She drank tea from imaginary cups and helped her teddy bear drink too.

“Drink tea, Keef!” Abigail pointed at Keith with a horrified gasp. She pretended to pour Keith tea in an imaginary tea cup that she held delicately by the handle while making a gurgling noise in the back of her throat to simulate the pouring liquid. Keith smiled and Lance sipped at his imaginary tea cup with ease.

He huffed a chuckle and sipped at his tea cup with his pinky up, making Lance laugh. Abigail looked at Lance and starting laughing too. “Tea, Uncle Lans?” He held forward his tea cup, and Abigail smiled and poured him another cup, gurgling as the tea poured.

Keith was right, Lance would make a good father. But he was also right that there was no way to pretend that Hunk and Shay were still alive, not with Abigail sitting right in front of him, smiling like Hunk and laughing like Shay.

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


Their life regained a new sort of normal in the three weeks since Abigail had moved in. Keith made breakfast every morning. Typically eggs and toast, scrambled for Abigail on small plastic Disney plates and over easy for Lance. After a light kiss on the cheek, Keith would grab his togo cup of coffee and leave for work, running into the classroom just after first bell.

Lance and Abigail left not too much later to “Defenders of Your Universe Daycare.” She would play with the kids and toys. It was so strangely normal that Lance almost felt like Hunk would walk through the door at any moment. That he would bring lunch or come to pick up Abigail. Or on the rare days that Shay was at the high school where Keith worked, she would stop in and take Abigail and meet up with Hunk for lunch.

Or on some days when Lance would text Hunk about how the kids colored on the hem of his pants when he wasn’t looking or how Susie O’Donald had bitten him again or how the Hanson boys had tried to eat the books in the library nook or how Jasper Murphy had cried all morning about tripping over a toy car, Hunk would come in the middle of the day with a large coffee and some advil in hand.

Lance would lean over the counter, chatting with Hunk and sipping his coffee while watching the kids out of the corner of his eye.

Lance pulled out his phone and sent out a short text.

To Hunka Hunka Burnin’ Love:  
_I miss you and wish you were here_  
_Sometimes it feels like you never even left_

Lance shoved his phone in his pocket and let himself get distracted in the cries and problems of children.

At home he couldn’t pretend that Hunk was coming back, but at work there were moments, fleeting and far between, when Lance would glance at the clock and wonder when he would arrive. And he thought maybe there wasn’t any harm in pretending just a little longer.


	2. Anger

###### 

There is nothing more terrifying than parenting and failing.

  


“Can you believe it’s been 6 weeks since,” Lance’s voice trailed off, sullen and quiet as he pulled apart pieces of toast and placing them on Abigail’s plate. The rest of the sentence didn’t need to be spoken, because they both knew, remembered the phone call with startling clarity.

Keith slammed the coffee pot back onto its hot plate in the maker. “Can we not talk about this right now?” He jerkily screwed on the lid to his coffee cup. The lid didn’t thread correctly, and Keith ended up spilling most of the coffee across the counter. With an angry grunt, he threw the plastic to-go coffee mug into the sink and splashed the coffee onto his hands and across the counter.

Abigail laughed at Keith’s antics and grabbed her plate, attempting to throw it as well in imitation. Lance snatched it from her hands before she could, but not before she dumped half of her scrambled eggs and toast on the floor. Gently, he took the plate and placed it in the sink, now standing next to Keith.

“Abi, you know better than to throw things,” Lance reprimanded, voice light but stern.

Abigail scowled - well as much as her chubby cheeked face that looked so much like Hunk could scowl - and pointed at Keith, “But Keef did it.”

Keith sighed and turned to Abigail with impatience carved deeply into his face, “And Keef was acting bad. He’s sorry and he shouldn’t have thrown his things. Both Keef and Abigail know better, right?”

Lance paused for a minute. He would never get used to seeing Keith with kids. The day that Keith had said that he was interested in adoption and expanding their family was literally one of the happiest days in Lance’s life. Of course Lance loved children - he owned a daycare for a reason - but he had always assumed that Keith taught high school for a reason, that being he had almost no patience for young children.

So seeing Keith interact with Abigail, laughing and playful and stern at all the right moments, made his heartswell. Keith had come into their bedroom after putting Abigail to sleep with anxiety twitching his fingers, asking Lance if he was doing a good job. Because parenting was never easy and it was never that simple.

Abigail nodded at Keith’s explanation, playing with some of her breakfast that was still scattered on the table.

Keith kissed Lance on the cheek, but it was cold, more of an empty gesture than anything else, “I have to head off to work.”

Lance quickly grabbed Keith’s coffee cup from the sink, dried it off and poured the last of the coffee from the pot into it. He caught Keith at the door, shoving his feet into soft leather loafers.

“Here,” Lance held out the travel mug. Keith paused and a look of guilt flashed across his face. “It’s not a full cup. But I know how you are without any coffee, and I wouldn’t want to subject your students to that,” Lance chuckled.

“Thanks,” Keith mumbled, grabbing the mug and giving Lance a genuine kiss on the lips, deep and passionate. It was something they hadn’t had in awhile. Sure, they had those wild nights where they wanted to forget everything that happened. Nights where they got lost in each other, ignoring the world until it came crashing back, cold and unforgiving as the sweat dried on their bodies. But those nights hadn’t happened since Abigail moved in and made everything undeniable.

Abigail made a noise from the kitchen. Lance turned his head to peer down the hallway and make sure she was still in the highchair. When he turned back, the door was shutting with a faint click, and Keith was making his way up the street to the train station.

Lance walked back to Abigail and picked her up from her seat, “Alright, time to get you ready for the day, you little meatball.”

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


There was a soft knock on the door to Keith’s classroom, announcing Shiro before he stepped in. He smiled softly and strode to Keith’s desk. Keith merely glanced up at Shiro, acknowledging his presence with a sharp nod before going back to typing. Shiro pulled a chair out from a desk in the front row, placed it in front of Keith’s desk, and sat down, one leg crossed over the other, relaxed and entirely informal.

“So I heard you snapped at your students today, Keith.”

“Are you here as Principal Shirogane or Shiro?” Keith growled, slamming his fingers down on the keys.

Shiro sighed and rubbed his hand through his hair, “Both.”

“No, you can’t be both.” Keith looked away from the monitor and pinned Shiro with his gaze, “You’re either here as my boss or as my best friend. Not both.”

Sighing, Shiro stood, watching the way Keith’s shoulders huffed with each breath he took. “Keith, you can’t let your grief consume you.” He placed a hand on Keith’s desk and leaned forward, “We all miss Hunk and Shay, and I can only imagine how hard it’s been on you and Lance, dealing with your grief as well as raising a child. But you can’t let this affect your teaching and your students.”

Shiro nodded and began to walk out of the classroom. He called back over his shoulder, “Put on a movie or something tomorrow. Or take the day off. Do whatever you need to get your head in a better place.”

And he shut the door.

Keith placed his head down on the desk, sighing.

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


To Hunka Hunka Burnin’ Love:  
_Hunk, buddy, my man_  
_I love Keith, you know that. I married him for fucks sake_  
_But if he blows up at me one more time, I swear I’m gonnaaweiqyyeksj_

Lance quickly shoved the phone in his pocket, too distracted by his harsh typing to notice Keith walking down the hallway. Keith paused in front of Lance and Abigail, who were curled up on the living room couch. Abigail was lying on the cushion beside him, asleep and curled up with her yellow baby blanket. She had fallen asleep twenty minutes into Tangled, but Lance hadn’t turned it off yet.

“Hey,” Keith’s voice was a whisper, eyes darting to Abigail’s sleeping form on the couch. The bags under his eyes only seemed to have deepened in the last few weeks.

Lance didn’t say anything, just patiently waited for Keith to respond. He knew how Keith worked, especially after being married to him for four years. Keith needed time to think, to form his words into coherent sentences when he was trying to speak from the heart and not a place of logic. “Can we get Shiro and Allura to babysit Abigail on Friday?” He scratched the back of his head. “I know I’ve been really on edge lately,” Keith met Lance’s eyes, “And I want to take you on a proper date or something.”

Lance blushed and forgot about the half-sent text message.

“I’d like that,” He whispered, grabbing at Keith’s hand to pull him in for a kiss, gentle and searching for something, maybe that grief they kept buried within their hearts. Lance yanked him down to the couch, twining his legs with Keith’s and leaning his head on his husband’s shoulder, forcing him to finish the movie.

At the end of the movie when Lance glanced over with tears in his eyes, he noticed that Keith had fallen asleep against the back of the couch, one hand still playing with the edges of Abigail’s midnight brown hair.

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


Shiro and Allura had taken Abigail for the entire night. And the next morning, she had ran back into their apartment with stories to tell Keith and Lance about all of the fun she had. Shiro smiled widely, and Allura had this almost expectant look on her face, which Shiro either didn’t notice or pointedly ignored.

“We should do this more often,” Allura commented, brushing back strands of Abigail’s hair when she clung to her leg after Shiro and Allura began to say their goodbyes.

“Yeah, hopefully Pidge will come visit us soon and we can all do dinner,” Lance suggested, pulling out a copy of Hunk’s cooking book from the small bookshelf, “We could even try to make it ourselves.” His smile was weak, and it was echoed by everyone.

Keith sighed and looked at Shiro, “Any word from Pidge? I haven’t heard from her since the funeral.”

Shiro shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “No.” There was a moment of tense silence at the terse nature of Shiro’s voice, “She’s pretty much isolated herself to her work. Matt says that between him and his parents, they’ve made sure that she eats and sleeps enough to survive.” His chuckle was weak, a forced thing, and Keith didn’t meet his eyes.

Keith clenched his hands. It was a sudden shock of his selfishness, the way grief had consumed him and narrowed his vision. He hadn’t even tried to reach out to Pidge since the funeral, and excuses came barreling into his mind between work and Abigail and Lance and his own grief. But that’s all they were, excuses.

“Is that really much different from when she gets too excited over a project?” Lance joked, pouring water through the coffee maker for them. Keith smiled and Allura laughed, but the moroseness didn’t leave the air.

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


Keith already knew it. He could feel the anger and irritation singing in his blood. Could feel it in the way that he cracked his knuckles and scrubbed at his face in the shower. He knew that he kept on lashing out and that Lance was taking the brunt of it.

Lance’s expression hadn’t returned to normal since the late night hospital drive all those weeks ago. It had taken on a new hardened look since Keith started lashing out. As if he was always weary of what his husband would say and do. The only time his expression softened was when he was looking at Abigail.

And god, that made him sick. To see Lance wear that kind of guarded expression around him, to see Lance be weary of him at all.

Keith knew that he needed to be more of a father to Abigail, having taken a step back as a means to hide his anger from her, knowing that the last thing he wanted to do was to lash out at this unexpecting, undeserving two year old that had lost even more than they had. So when she walked up to him with the stuffed lion in her hands, he dedicated all of his attention to her. He set down the tests he was grading and took the toy from her pudgy, little fingers.

“Play tea party wif me, Keef.” Abigail commanded, pointing to the living room. Her smile was wide and expressive on her chubby cheeks.

Lance was taking a shower or he was just taking a break from Abigail (or Keith, he wasn’t sure) in the other room. She was a ball of energy that wore them both down, always excited to play and bouncing around the living room, singing songs from Disney musicals and dancing with her stuffed animals.

Keith slid off his chair and kneeled in front of Abigail, “Do you want to play tea party with tea cups?”

Abigail’s face lit up, and she started jumping to a chorus of yes. Keith laughed and picked her up, raising her to the ceiling with some sound effects. She giggled. Keith smiled the brightest smile that he could remember since the incident and set Abigail down in her highchair.

“Do you want tea?” He asked, walking into the kitchen.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Abigail was cheering holding her teddy bear close to her chest. Keith smiled and put a kettle on the stove and got out the small red teapot he had, an old gift from Shiro. While Keith was picking out a sweet peach tea for them to drink, Abigail was tucking her bear’s legs under the table so that he could sit on her lap.

The kettle whistled, and Keith began to steep the tea in the teapot, throwing in two tea bags and a couple sugar cubes. When the tea was ready, Keith took out a couple plastic cups from the cabinet. “Which one do you and Mr. Teddy Bear want?”

“Her name is Angel!”

“Oh, sorry. Which cups do you and Angel want?” Keith smiled as Abigail grabbed the cups she wanted from his hands. She placed one next to Angel and one in front of her. Keith grabbed the tea cup and poured himself a little.

The temperature was still hot, so he opened the lid to let it cool off so that Abigail could have some.

“I want some too!” Abigail demanded, holding out her small plastic cup.

“It’s still too hot, honey.” Keith explained, but Abigail started pouting. Her chestnut eyes were wide and watery, lip jutting out and trembling. Keith swallowed, conviction wavering. He hadn’t realized how much of a pushover he was until this moment. “Okay Abigail, how about you smell my tea and see if you like it. But remember it’s too hot to drink right now.”

Keith set the teapot on the countertop and brought his ceramic mug to Abigail, holding it carefully in both hands so that she could smell it. She inhaled deeply, her nose wrinkling slightly with the smell. “Ew,” She complained and pushed at the mug with all of her force. It flew out of Keith’s steady hands, flying towards the ground. Keith stumbled for the mug and caught it before it mashed on the ground. But not before liquid splashed across his papers and on Abigail’s tender skin.

She screamed, bloodcurdling and terrified. Keith’s heart hammered, tears welling in his eyes as he saw nothing other than Abigail’s angelic face twisted in agony. He ripped her out of the highchair, rushing to the sink. He shoved her arm under the stream of cold water.

Keith carefully watched her skin, looking for the telltale redness of burns or the rising of blisters, as Lance’s stuttered footsteps ended in the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?!” He was exasperated, hair messy and eyes losing any trace slumber.

Abigail was wiggling her legs, already anxious to be put down. Keith held her a little tighter, tracing a hand across the soft skin of her arms, but it seemed that she hadn’t been burned by the hot tea.

Keith sighed slightly, drying her arms and setting her down. She smiled and ran up to Lance’s legs, embracing one of them. Lance ruffled her hair.

“I don’t know,” Keith stumbled, leaning against the corner for support. “I just wanted to do something nice with Abigail, because I feel like I don’t spend any time with her. And I didn’t think that she would get burned by the tea. I was trying to wait, trying to make sure that it would be okay. But, god, I don’t know.” Keith ran tired hands over his face. His words were a jumbled mess, rippling out of his mouth like the light-headed relief that washed over his body.

Lance glanced at the table and fought a small smile. He was a little sad that he missed Keith trying to treat Abigail to a real tea party - even if giving a two year old hot tea wasn’t the smartest idea Keith had ever had. He stepped forward, Abigail still wound in his legs. “Keith,” He whispered.

Keith turned around, slamming his hands onto the counter, “Just what the fuck, Hunk!? How did he think that I could do this!”

“Watch your language in front of Abi,” Lance reprimanded, trying to keep his tone level.

Keith scowled, face reflected in the small window above the sink. His shoulders were tense and the muscles in his back coiled with anger. He snarled, “She’s fucking 2 years old, it’s not like she can actually understand.”

Abigail gripped at Lance’s pants tighter, small tears rolling down her cheeks, chin trembling. It only took a second before she tossed her head back and screamed her sobs, announcing that she may not have understood the words but she understood Keith’s tone perfectly well. Lance swept Abi up into his arms. He gently rocked her, shushing her softly as she wrapped her little arms around Lance’s neck.

Lance kept his voice cordial, but his words were anything but, “You agreed to this responsibility too, Keith. So please, step up.”

Lance walked out of the room, and Keith stuck his head under the cold faucet.

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


To Hunka Hunka Burnin’ Love:  
_Abigail asked about you again today_  
_I told her how amazing you are, and how amazing your cooking is._  
_was._  
_I promised her that we could make your chocolate chip cookies tomorrow. She hasn’t stopped talking about it since._

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


Lance was notified that someone had entered “Defenders of Your Universe Daycare” by the soft chime of the door. He nodded to Plaxim to watch over the kids while he walked to the front desk. The familiar scent of coffee made his heart clench. Shiro stood at the entrance, two coffee cups in hand and a delicate smile on his face.

Holding out a coffee to Lance, Shiro asked, “How are you holding up?” Lance shrugged and took the cup, ignoring the small tremble in his hands. Leaning forward on the desk and taking a small sip of the coffee, Lance glanced Shiro over, taking in his work clothes and polished shoes.

“As good as I can be,” Lance smiled, but it was a weak, half-hearted thing.

Shiro sipped his coffee as if trying to collect his thoughts before speaking. “How are you and Keith doing?” Lance opened his mouth to answer, but Shiro cut him off, “I just know he doesn’t do well with grief. He almost got suspended ten times the year after his parents died. So, I just was a little worried.”

Lance set the coffee down and ran both hands through his hair.

“He’s honestly harder to deal with than Abigail. And she’s two.”

Shiro laughed. Lance smiled a little, feeling a little more empowered to talk about the issues him and his husband were facing then to hide them behind forced smiles and jokes. He wished with a sudden pang in his chest that Hunk were here to talk to, that he would respond to the texts Lance kept sending.

“It’s just hard because I know exactly how he’s feeling.” Lance sighed, “I tore all of the artwork I did with the kids to shreds the other day just because I was so angry. So when I see him lashing out, I can’t really blame him, you know?”

Shiro’s hand was heavy on Lance’s shoulder. He gazed at Shiro’s calm and relaxed expression. “Keith isn’t the only one of you hurting, Lance. Don’t take on all of his grief because you want to avoid fighting with him.”

Lance nodded, swallowing the constriction of his throat that always indicated the start of tears. He chewed on his bottom lip, grabbing the cup of coffee again and taking a hasty sip as if to distract his senses with the overwhelming taste of bitterness.

“Well,” Shiro glanced at his watch, “My lunch break is almost over, so I’ve got to go. You can text or call me anytime if you need.” Shiro nodded at his own words, looking Lance over as if he could see the personal personification of Lance’s grief. He shrunk away from Shiro’s gaze, hiding half of his face behind the cup of coffee. “It was good to see you, Lance. Enjoy the coffee.”

Lance took another sip from the cup and pulled out his phone.

To Hunka Hunka Burnin’ Love:  
_Has Shiro always been this good at giving advice?_  
_I should have married him instead lol_  
_But_  
_I keep holding back my anger from Keith, because I’m honestly afraid of what I’ll say if I let it all go. I’m just so fucked, Hunk_  
_God, I wish you were here so that we could talk and sit on your couch and watch movies and eat something delicious_  
_You were always the best at giving advice too_  
_and Shay_  
_I wish you were here for so much more than that too_

With a sigh, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and walked back into the main activity room of the daycare. Abigail ran up to him with a large smile that made his hand clench around his coffee. She was holding up a bag of store brand cookies with Jasper Murphy racing after her.

“Tell him that Daddy’s cookies are better!” she announced plopping the bag of cookies in Lance’s outstretched hand. She placed her hands on her hips like she had just solved the mystery of how the world works.

Jasper pouted just behind Abigail.

“Do you mind if I have one of your cookies, Jasper?” Lance asked, and Jasper nodded minutely. He popped one of the miniature cookies in his mouth and ate it with exaggerated moans of approval. “That’s one good cookie,” Lance commented and handed the half-full bag back to Jasper.

He snatched it back, stuck his tongue out at Abigail, and hustled to the snack table.

Abigail huffed, crossing her arms and turning her back on Lance, preparing to stomp off. Lance swept her up in his arms, and she giggled hysterically as Lance tickled her tummy.

When he put her down, she returned to pouting and was about to run off when Lance whispered in her ear, “Your Dad’s cookies are way better, especially when you help make them.”

Abigail’s smile was so large, dimpled cheeks like Hunk’s and bright teeth, slightly crooked on the bottom. Lance suppressed the tears that instinctively welled in his eyes at the sight. She screamed happily and started running around Lance in circles. He chuckled and pushed her lightly on the back to go play with the other kids.

He pulled out his phone, taking another sip of coffee.

To Hunka Hunka Burnin’ Love:  
_I miss you._

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


Abigail hadn’t stopped screaming since Lance had brought her back from the daycare. She had wanted ice cream, and when Lance said no, she started sobbing loud, hoarse cries that seemed to be tuned right at a note that rung in their ears and gave them both a headache. They had finally gotten her to bed when she had cried herself to exhaustion.

Keith let out an exasperated sigh, sinking into his chair. He rubbed stiff fingers into his temple, and let out another frustrated sigh. He pulled out a stack of homeworks, only to throw them across the table with an irritated flick of his wrist.

“Fuck all of this,” he growled, shoving his face in his hands.

“You know what, Keith? You aren’t the only one hurting here!” Lance snapped, eyes flashing. Twisting on the ball of his foot, he slammed his hand against the table. “Hunk was my best friend! My best fucking friend, Keith. And you keep acting like he meant the world to you and all this shit.” Lance waved his hands around, staring directly into Keith’s face as the shock dissipated to an emotionless mask.

“I have to look at Abi every second of every day. At least when you go to work, you don’t drag along a blaring reminder of your dead friends. At least Abi hasn’t asked you when her parents are coming home.”

Keith looked physically sick at the mention of it, so Lance continued, enjoying the way his anger flushed through his chest, like a tidal wave he’d been holding back for months. Volume growing, anger fuming and rising in puffs of smoke from his mouth.

“Oh yeah,” Lance huffed, “Last week, she whispered in my ear and she asks me where her mommy and daddy are and why they haven’t come to get her. She asks me if her parents hate her!”

Lance slammed both fists against the table again, “I had to tell her that Mommy and Daddy were on a vacation in the clouds, but they were always watching over her because they loved her. She cried about missing them. Cried in my fucking arms, Keith. Sobbing about how she was a good girl and that her parents should come home. It was fucking heart wrenching. But I couldn’t cry in front of her like that! No, I couldn’t make her more upset.

“And every day since, she’s asked me if Hunk and Shay are coming back soon.” Lance hit the table to enunciate each word, “Every. Fucking. Day.”

Lance grabbed his coat from the back of the chair and shrugged it on, “So don’t fucking act like you’re the only one hurting here, okay?”

“I,” Keith stumbled as if he was finally realizing the magnitude and consequences of his anger and distance, “I didn’t know.”

“Well, maybe you would know if you actually paid attention to what happens in this house, Keith,” Lance called from over his shoulder as he marched toward the door, shoving his feet into shoes.

Keith didn’t move from the table, but a hollow imitation of his voice called out, “Where are you going?”

“Out!” Lance growled and slammed the door behind him, selfishly hoping Abigail would wake up so Keith could struggle on his own to take care of her.

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


Lance wasn’t sure where he was going until he sat on the curb, back to the apartment behind him. Lights shown through the curtains as he buried his hands in his hair, elbows propped on his knees. Squeezing his eyes shut, Lance shook his head and cursed under his breath.

Of course he had walked to Hunk’s apartment.

Of course someone else lived there now. It had been almost three months months since that night.

His chin trembled, breathes like watery gasps between hiccups like swallowed sobs. Without thought he had walked here, fuming and cursing and kicking pebbles of cement into the road, worn soles of his shoes slapping the sidewalk and hands dug deep into his jacket pockets.

He sat back, hands sprawling on the sidewalk and looking at the washout sky, streetlamps reducing the visibility of the stars to winks on the edges of your vision.

He wasn’t even sure what he was doing here.

Time ticked by, slowly and when he finally felt the suspicious eyes of neighbors settle on his shoulders, he dusted off his pants with numb fingers and stood. Not meeting any of their eyes, he began the slow walk back to his apartment, hoping that the time alone had cooled both of their tempers.

A block had passed by before Lance heard the stuttered approaching footsteps, harsh and running. He glanced up to see Keith, sprinting towards him.

“Lance!”

Keith wrapped him in a hug before even attempting to slow, knocking them back a few steps. Keith’s haggard exhales beat against Lance’s neck, shoulders rising and falling sharply with each breath. Delicately, Lance wrapped his arms around Keith’s waist, leaning his head against his husband’s sweaty cheek.

“Keith -”

“I’m sorry,” Keith squeezed Lance tighter, cutting off his words and his breath, “I’m so sorry. I know that doesn’t excuse my actions. I’ve just been so angry because -” Keith pulled back from Lance, and he could see the frustration in the tips of his husband’s fingers - “It’s not fair! Like the universe picked out the most amazing people who had never done anything wrong and just -- just made them suffer!”

Keith bit his lip and threw his hands to the side with a frustrated grunt, clenched and trembling with the urge to hit something, to personify his anguish in stinging pain and physicality. He twined his fingers together before quickly shoving them in his pockets as if to keep them tethered, to keep himself contained.

Lance stepped forward, one hand gently placing a hand on his shoulder. Keith wilted at the touch, the confession melting his anger with a resignation Lance had never seen in him before.

“I know,” Lance whispered, pulling Keith forward until their foreheads brushed, Keith’s tacky with sweat and Lance’s furrowed with suppressed emotion. “I know,” Lance’s voice broke.

Keith wound his hands through Lance’s belt loops, dragging them a little closer together under the streetlamp in a neighborhood they no longer had a reason to visit. Leaning forward, Lance let his lips brush Keith’s, enjoying the softness of their touch and the fragile moment of peace between them.

“Abigail,” Lance gasped pulling back from Keith, horror stagnating the breathes in his chest.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Keith explained, “I called Shiro over.”

“That’s going to take some explaining,” Lance chuckled, leaning forward to kiss Keith again, enjoying the way his hands traveled knowingly along his waist, unhurried and gentle.

The second they pulled part, foreheads touching and breaths mingling. “I’m sorry, Lance. I’ve been -”

Lance cut him off with another kiss, rushed and singing with passion. “I know. I’m sorry too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!!
> 
> Comments and kudos mean the world to me!
> 
> You can also come scream at me on my [tumblr](https://voltronhastakenovermylife.tumblr.com)!! Give me writing prompts or something fun! Or check out my other works °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°


	3. Bargaining

###### 

There is nothing more terrifying than realizing the time that’s been wasted and the time that’s long been lost.

  
  


The house hadn’t regained its easy air in months. There had been an unsteady tension between Lance and Keith, and they couldn’t bring themselves to admit it. Keith sat at the kitchen table, slashing another red line through the exam.

Abigail sat across from him, playing with the plastic tea set Allura had given her for no other reason than to give her something - Shiro and Allura were spoiling her rotten. Keith had never seen Abigail scream louder, jumping with joy and smiling wide enough to pronounce her dimples.

She immediately ran up to Keith and danced in front of him, holding out the box. “Play tea party! Play tea party!” She demanded, and Keith couldn’t help but indulge her - but that day while he drank tea, she drank apple juice instead.

Keith sighed and waved a paper in the air. “This student claimed that hydrogen was a noble gas. I officially think I am the worst teacher.”

Lance smiled from the stove, Hunk’s cookbook propped open beside him.

“I don’t know,” Lance countered, pointing the dripping spoon at his husband, “Isn’t hydrogen like number one on the periodic table? Doesn’t that make it the most noble?”

“Oh my god,” Keith sighed with a smile in his voice. He tried to fight his grin, but Lance looked at him with all seriousness. Pretending that the wooden spoon was a gun, Lance sighted Keith, and shot him, sound effects and all.

“Got ‘em.” Lance stuck out his tongue, and Keith cracked up with laughter.

Abigail’s voice stopped them, “When are Mommy and Daddy coming home?” The tentative smiles immediately fell from their faces as they turned to meet her wide gaze.

“Don’t you remember, Abi,” Lance began, walking away from the stove, spoon dripping globs of oil onto the floor, “Mommy and Daddy are watching from the clouds.”

The doorbell rang and Abigail slid off the chair, “Mommy! Daddy!” She ran to the door, and Keith could only watch in horror as she jumped for the knob. Dropping the spoon to the counter, Lance walked calmly behind her, sweeping her up in his arms before she could open the door.

Lance opened the door to see the UPS guy holding out a large package. Abigail pointed at the delivery man and screamed directly in Lance’s ear. Large tears rolled down her chubby cheeks as she pounded clenched fists against Lance’s shoulder while her nails scratched down his neck.

“Mommy!” Abigail sobbed, squirming in Lance’s arms to be let go. “Daddy!” Her cries echoed in Lance’s ears as he nodded and took the package from the concerned delivery man. He shut the door with his heel.

Keith was standing at the stove, watching the food. He turned to Lance with a small pitying smile on his face, Abigail’s weeping a constant hum around the house.

It was strange sense of normal they had become accustomed to.

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


The phone rang, blaring in the dark emptiness of their room. Keith immediately shot up out of bed and pulled his phone from the charger.

“Hello?” Keith’s voice was a squeak of panic, feet dangling off the bed and cold air blowing against his overheated skin. Lance was groggily getting up, placing a gentle hand on Keith’s bicep.

“Keeeeiiith,” a familiar voice slurred. There was a hiccup and the sound of vomit ripping through her throat and splattering on pavement.

Keith stood up, leaving the warmth of the bed and comfort of the blankets behind as he began to pace the room. “Keith, what’s going on?” Lance’s voice was a thin strand of worry, plucked and vibrating through the room.

“Pidge, where are you?” Keith’s voice was serious, strict and worried.

“Uuuh, some bar or - or I was there. But the bouncer made me leave after I threw up on the bar.”

Keith stopped pacing. “You threw up _on_ the bar?” He shook his head at her hum of confirmation and attempted to focus his still drowsy mind. “Share your location with me, okay? You remember how to do that with your phone, right?”

She began to answer, but a spew of vomit muffled her words. Grunting and gasping for air as she moaned, a little in pain and a little twinge of laughter. Groaning, she mumbled something incomprehensible over the staccato of her footsteps, echoes of the club music, and honking of car horns.

Keith put a hand on the receiver, so that Pidge couldn’t hear him. “Lance, call Matt. Pidge is drunk and wandering around the city throwing up.”

“Shit,” Lance cursed and flicked on the nightstand light, fumbling for his phone.

Keith kept Pidge talking on the phone, convincing her to share her location with Matt so that he could pick her up in his car. She mumbled about Hunk and about how today was the final submission for the robot fighting competition they had been working on. Her sentences weren’t coherent, jumping around and slurring the words and details.

“Didn’t mean to drink so much. Hunk wouldn’t’ve been happy, you know,” She hiccupped a sob, “Never liked when I drank. But I ordered two drinks, one for me and the other -- the other for him. But guess what?! He wasn’t there. Not for four damn months! But I - I - I keep texting him math questions or ideas for robots or - or those fun recipes I see online.

“Shit, I can’t just stop acting like he’s here. He _was_ right there. Right fucking there, and now he’s gone. _He’s gone_!” She sobbed into the phone, wailing and sniffling.

Keith swallowed unable to say anything else, throat closing around words he knows Matt or her parents have said a million times over. Handing the phone to Lance, he whispered, “Pidge is crying, and I don’t know what to say.”

Without hesitation, Lance took the phone and shushed Pidge with small words and a calming tone. Sitting on the edge of the bed, his heels on the bedframe and his knees tucked into his chest, Keith wrapped his arms around his bent legs and rested his forehead on his knees.

Keith listened to Lance’s calming voice, closing his eyes and pretending that the soft words of comfort were for him instead.

“Yeah, Matt should be pulling up right now Pidge. Do you see his car? Awesome! Okay, please call us tomorrow so that we know that you’re alright. Okay? Goodnight, Pidge.” Lance sighed, placed Keith’s phone on his nightstand, and flicked off the light.

Crawling across the mattress to wrap his arms around Keith’s waist, Lance sat behind him, legs pressed snuggly against Keith’s hips. His touch was gentle and like unfurling a flower, Keith relaxed back in his grip, leaning against his chest.

“I hate 3am phone calls,” Keith grumbled, pulling Lance’s arms tighter around himself.

And they both pictured that night, four months ago. Lance had grappled for his phone, pulling it off the charger and laying it on the side of his face. He grumbled a sleepy, “Hello?”

Mrs. Garrett’s voice was rushed and panicked and so terrified that Lance shot up in bed, shaking the mattress so violently Keith snapped out of deep sleep. A complaint was at the tip of his tongue, drowsily rubbing at his eyes. But Lance was pacing the room, clad only in loose boxers and running a frantic hand through his hair.

“Wait, wait. Please slow down, Mrs. Garrett. Can you start again?” Lance’s voice was a deceiving calm, but the tremble in his legs and the way his hands pulled at his hair showed otherwise.

They arrived at the hospital unkempt with pandemonium swirling in their veins. Keith was wearing two different types of shoes and a pair of sweatpants that were definitely Lance’s, tighter and baggy at the elastic bottoms. Lance had on a shirt of Keith’s, too short, barely skimming the tops of his jeans.

The waiting room was quiet, a strange sense of acceptance settled over the two occupants: Mrs. Garrett and her wife. They each had a cup of coffee in hand and anguish painted on their features. Shay’s family lived a couple of states away, and the way Mrs. Garrett fiddled with her phone it was clear she hadn’t been able to reach them.

Unable to tell them the news.

Hunk and Shay’s car had been crushed between a drunk driver and a telephone pole. Found on the side of a busy highway ten minutes after an unnamed bystander had called 911. The front of the car crumbled, shattering the windshield and curling inward. The steering wheel been bent and bloodied. The driver’s side door folded inward, and even with the Jaws of Life, it took thirty minutes to remove Hunk’s body.

Mrs. Garrett had unknowingly rushed to the hospital only to identify the body of her son.

Shay was barely breathing when they found her. One of her lungs had collapsed from the force of the impact and the airbag, drowning in her own fluids and the blood from broken ribs. The serrated ribs lacerated her liver, shredding the precious organs they were built to protect. She had herniated a couple of disks and fractured several vertebrae.

She didn’t make it through the night.

Keith and Lance stood in the bleak waiting room as Pidge, Matt, Shiro, and Allura came rushing in their pajamas. They were there long enough to greet Mrs. Garrett and her wife before the doctor strode down the hallway, clipboard in hand.

He was clean shaven. Handsome if not for the strange sense of apathy that dressed his features. He flipped the papers back and forth, reading and collecting his words before he spoke. He held the clipboard to his chest, nodding to the family and giving his condolences before continuing, voice steady.

Allura’s knees gave out, grasping onto Shiro as she shook her head. Mumbled words of denial were the backdrop to the rest of the doctor’s speech. Shiro didn’t say anything, simply supported Allura as she clung to him.

Pidge watched the doctor with wide eyes and a blank expression. Tears dripped down her cheeks like rain, cold and distant.

Lance had slowly backed into a chair, holding his face in his hands, skin pale and fingers trembling.

Keith kept shaking his head as if to simply banish the words from his recent memory, clear the slate and go back to bed. Never hear the phone call. Wake up tomorrow with everything the same.

And Mrs. Garrett wailed, head tossed back and as she cried for another explanation.

Lance hugged Keith a little tighter on their bed, wanting to forget everything about that night and banishing the memories of the bleached hospital, white and sterile and completely unfeeling, to the farthest reaches of their minds.

“If only I had spent more time with Hunk before all this happened,” Lance whispered into the darkness of their room. Keith stiffened in his arms, but Lance continued, “I mean, I feel like we missed so much. Damn, there was so much we wanted to do. I just feel like I wasted so much time.”

Keith pulled away from Lance, so that he could turn and face his husband. Placing a gentle hand on that warm, tanned cheek, Keith hoped to give Lance some sort of comfort, and Lance leaned into his touch.

His voice was a whisper, tentative in the darkness, as if the darkness could shatter around them and reveal much more than they intended, “We all have things we regret not being able to do. But we can’t dwell on that kind of stuff.”

With gentle fingers, Lance took Keith’s hand off of his cheek and pulled them chest to chest. Keith shifted his legs so that they were draped to the side of Lance’s as they fell back to the bed. Snuggling his chin into Lance’s shoulder, Keith sighed. Lance traced small circles on Keith’s bare back, feeling goosebumps rise on his skin.

“What were the things you wished you did?” Keith whispered against Lance’s neck.

“God, there are so many. And some of them are so fucking stupid too. Like Hunk and I had talked about binge watching all of Avatar: The Last Airbender. Just sitting down and watching it with different snacks for each book. Like Flaming Fire Flakes or something,” Lance smiled at the thought. They had it all planned out from the snacks to an exact timeline, incorporating bathroom breaks and time needed to change the disks.

“And then there are things like going to our high school reunion together next year. Or finally going to tour NASA. Like, we talked about that since we were kids. Both Hunk and I wanted to be astronauts.” Lance chuckled, “We were astronauts for like three halloweens in a row.”

Keith grinned, remembering the all baby pictures Mrs. McClain had shown him on his second visit. Tracing fine circles down Lance’s stomach and across his chest, Keith felt Lance relax under his touch.

“Oh, we also talked about how we always wanted to go to Gordon Ramsay’s restaurant so that we could rate the food.” Lance paused, the smile that had formed on his face faded and the small movements of his fingers stilled on Keith’s back. His arms pulled Keith tighter against him. “What about you?”

Keith hummed slightly, thinking, “I think what I regret most of all is never getting to hear him laugh again. Like Hunk is,” And Keith choked catching himself. His hands tightened to fists and no longer delicately stroking tanned skin, “Hunk _was_ honestly one of the nicest people I ‘d ever met. Always so caring and offering to help people. I regret not making him laugh enough or telling him how good of a friend he was or thanking him for the enormous impact he had on my life.

“Without him, I don’t - I don’t know if we would’ve ever gotten married,” Keith admitted, hands finally relaxing against Lance’s skin.

“What?” Lance gasped a little too loudly. They both paused, holding their breath and listening for sounds that indicated that Abigail was awake. There was nothing but the quiet hum of the air conditioner.

“Yeah, I honestly hated you when we first met.” Keith chuckled at the thought like it was a fond memory. But Lance honestly had never felt more terrified, “I thought you were cocky and obnoxious and one of those boys that just plays around with people and their feelings.”

Drawing back from Keith and pulling him off his shoulder, Lance searched for his husband’s expression in the darkness of their room. “Oh my god, you thought I was an ass!”

“You were though, in my defense.” Keith shrugged and pushed a gentle finger against the furrow of Lance’s brows to straighten them. “And after that first time, I never wanted to hang out with you again. But Hunk was the one that convinced me to give you a chance. He swore that you were just trying to impress me or something and that I shouldn’t be offended.”

Lance huffed a laugh through his nose, shaking his head slightly. And they settled back into their position, Keith curled against Lance’s chest. They sat in a comfortable silence, more comfortable than the house had been in months.

“Shay helped me pick out my outfit for the second time we hung out.”

“You mean when Hunk made that family dinner during freshman year?”

Lance chuckled, “Yeah. She noticed how I acted when we first met, and immediately knew that I thought you were cute. She was the one that pushed me to realize my feelings.”

“Took you long enough,” Keith mumbled against the tender flesh of Lance’s neck.

Lance shivered at the sensation. Hands tightened around Keith, one dropping to his hip and pulling him ever closer. He pushed a leg between his husband’s, savoring the quick inhale on his neck, the small gasp.

Keith tilted his chin up and kissed Lance. In a second, Lance was on top of him, parting Keith’s willing legs with his hips.

They fell into each other searching for more than just an aching moment to forget. And it was the first time in such a long time that this house felt filled with love.

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


To Hunka Hunka Burnin’ Love:  
_SO! I tried to make a romantic dinner from your cookbook yesterday, and excuse you - but you rated it wrong. You rated it as a level 3, but it was one of the hardest recipes I’ve done so far._  
_Keith came home to the smoke alarm going off, Abigail screaming, and the smell of burnt food. (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)_  
_He called in for pizza and refused to even taste it_  
_So I blame you lol_  
_No but seriously, but I miss you so much, buddy._  
_I was thinking about taking Keith and Abigail down to Florida_  
_So we can finally tour NASA and maybe take Abi to Disney_  
_I honestly think she would scream if we saw Rapunzel_  
_When I said that I thought I could out quote you, I never realized how wrong I was. I now can repeat this movie forward and backward because that’s how many times Abi has watched it lol_  
_But, in all seriousness. I’m sorry for not doing enough when you were here_  
_Sorry for ditching on our plans or not texting you back_  
_Sorry for refusing to eat your Cuban recipes for three years in college because I thought your cooking couldn’t be better than my moms_  
_Sorry for pushing you into that sweaty stripper during your Bachelor party_  
_Sorry for not always being there for you_  
_Sorry for not being a better friend_  
_Sorry_  
_God, if there was anything I could do to bring you back, I would._  
_I miss you_  
_more than anything_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole scene with Pidge or Lance texting Hunk all of his regrets really choked me up and I almost cried while writing and editing it!  
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!! 
> 
> Comments and kudos mean the world to me!
> 
> You can also come scream at me on my [tumblr](https://voltronhastakenovermylife.tumblr.com)!! Give me writing prompts or something fun! Or check out my other works °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°


	4. Depression

###### 

There is nothing more terrifying than calling out for help and receiving an unsolicited answer.

  


Lance could feel the difference so acutely that he wondered why he couldn’t pinpoint the beginning of it. There was a hollowness to his chest, an ache that made his eyes dull and his smile frail. A bitter kind of emptiness that excavated between his ribs, looking for something treasured and valuable. There was new a slowness to his limbs. Energy that had once been overflowing enough to follow around bright children all day dwindled until he could barely put in the effort to smile or entertain the kids.

Abigail would tug at his pants and smile wide. Beg him to run, to lift her in his arms, to swirl her around, to entertain her with stories of space defenders. But Lance simply smiled and used his words, those words he could spin like cotton candy clouds at the tips of his lips, to push her in another direction, to distract her.

Lance was like a ghost in his own body.

Whatever summer was supposed to be between a young couple and their child, this wasn’t it. There were no trips to the beach or amusement parks or the aquarium. On weekends that Keith even suggested doing something like going to the local park, Lance always claimed he was tired. And he was, a strain of tired that settled in the marrow of his bones like cement.

The box of chalk Shay’s brother, Rax, had brought over at the start of the summer was left practically unused, sitting in the hall closet with their winter coats. And since the start of the season, Lance could leave Abigail at home with Keith when he went to work. But Keith would have to go back to school within the next two weeks, summer was drawing to a close. And Lance wasn’t sure how exactly he felt about that.

Keith sat at the kitchen table with Abigail sitting across from him. She was scribbling abstract artwork in her Disney coloring book while Keith was surrounded by receipts and bank statements. His one hand was threaded through his hair, supporting his head on the table. His coffee cup was empty, leaving some of the papers had half coffee rings.

“What’s going on?” Lance’s voice was a whisper, but Keith still jumped, straightening the receipts with a frantic hand, before he stilled. Keith’s eyes were red rimmed as he glanced up at Lance.

“I thought you were napping,” Keith murmured, not fighting Lance’s hand when he grabbed the edge of a receipt. It was for groceries two weeks ago: $120. Lance picked up another for pull-up diapers, and another for a dinner Lance went out on with his work friends, and another for the deposit for Abigail’s preschool, another for school supplies and new clothes for Abigail’s growing body.

Lance carefully put all of the papers back on the table. “What’s all this?”

“I saw your text messages to Hunk,” Keith began, lacing his fingers together on the table. His tone was a warble of shame. Lance didn’t react, his organs solidifying and cementing as the exhaustion leaked from his bones. “I honestly didn’t mean to,” Keith explained, fumbling with the scattered receipts, “but you wrote something about going to Florida. So, I was trying to save up so we could hopefully go next summer or something.”

“What?” Lance questioned, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure which aspect of Keith’s little speech to focus on. The first thing that bubbled past his lips was, “You looked at my messages to Hunk?”

Keith bit his lip and avoided Lance’s gaze. He at least had the dignity to look a little ashamed. “I didn’t mean to, especially after I realized it was a coping mechanism for you.”

“Have you looked again?”

Keith opened his mouth as if to deny it, but his lips closed with a small exhale and shame washed over his features. Digging his nails into the palms of his hands, Lance’s voice was just above a growl, “Can we talk in the other room, Keith?” Keith’s eyes darted to Abigail, happily drawing and oblivious to the tension resonating between her parents.

Without even waiting for Keith, Lance walked into their bedroom that was just off the kitchen. He stood with arms crossed, watching as Keith quietly shut the door behind him.

“Can I explain myself?”

“Oh, you better. And you better fucking explain it well,” Lance growled, nails threatening to puncture the tender flesh of his arms. The numbness that had settled into the soft tissues of his lungs and the values of his heart began to crackle and fizzle.

Keith, as Keith always did, just plunged right in without thinking. “You’ve just seemed kind of depressed lately, and I wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help you.”

“You could’ve just asked me,” Lance grumbled.

“I did!” Keith yelped, tears glossing his eyes as he glanced away. Drawing a shaky breath, his chin trembled, but he continued in a hushed whisper, “I kept on asking, Lance. I even suggested that we see a therapist or at least a couple’s therapist, but you just brushed it all off like it was some kind of joke.” Keith scrubbed one hand across his eyes.

Shaking his head, Keith chuckled a self-deprecating laugh, “I really didn’t mean to look, but I was using your phone for a GPS when we were in the car and I saw that your last message was to Hunk.” Keith chewed on his bottom lip, tipping his head back as if to stop the tears. “I tried not to look at it, but the next day you barely got out of bed. So I looked! But you didn’t talk about being depressed, just the fact that you missed him.

“And I thought,” Keith huffed a small sob, “I just thought that maybe if I could take us all to Florida you’d feel better. You know, if you got to finally do one of the things you wanted to do. I know that I’m not Hunk, but I thought that maybe I could be enough.”

Lance sat back on the bed, knees too weak to hold him anymore. He shook his head slowly, voice a mumble, “Keith, baby.”

But Keith didn’t turn to look at Lance, just covered his face with his hands. Taking a step fumbling step backward, he cursed under his breath.

“Keith, please come here.” Lance reached out a hand, grabbing ahold of the hem of Keith’s shirt. With a gentle tug, Keith came stumbling forward. Like a broken dam, he crashed against Lance, nose nuzzled against his chest. He brushed through Keith’s hair, fingers gentle and caressing.

“I just didn’t know what else to do,” Keith whimpered, gripping Lance’s shirt with trembling hands. His watery sob made his whole rib cage shudder between Lance’s legs.

Lance shushed him, “It’s okay, baby. I’m,” Lance exhaled, fighting the sudden defensive anger that simmered in his blood, “not mad.” The values of his heart stuttered and the cement of his bones dissipated, “And, fuck, you’re totally right. I just,” Lance swallowed the rest of the words that coated his lungs in dust.

Pulling away from Lance’s chest, Keith met his gaze. Lance ran both hands through his hair, squeezing his eyes so tightly closed that sparks danced behind his eyelids. Gentle fingertips banished the tension in his fingers, and soft whispers opened his eyes. Keith’s palms were warm against his cheeks, and Lance leaned into the comforting touch.

The tender stroke of Keith’s thumb brushed away a single tear.

“I didn’t want to admit it, but some days it’s just so fucking hard to get out of bed. And nothing seems to really matter. Not my job or myself or even you and Abi.” Lance cried out gripping onto Keith’s wrists for some kind of stability. “I just miss Hunk and Shay so goddamn much that I don’t know what to do with myself!”

There was a moment of silence between them. Lance’s nails dug into the soft skin of Keith’s inner wrists, hands trembling and face frozen in a state of shame and anger and desperation.

Keith nodded, the small movement drawing Lance’s watery gaze. Tipping his head back, Keith screamed almost as loud as Lance, “This fucking sucks!”

Lance smiled a little, a faint chuckle in his exhale. There was a small scream from the other room, and Abigail’s giggles followed after. Keith huffed a laugh and let go of Lance’s cheeks, already turning to go back to Abi in the kitchen.

Lance kept his grip firm on Keith’s wrists, pulling him down toward the bed.

“Lance, we have to go see -”

“She can wait a minute,” Lance whispered and kissed Keith. A soft, delicate kiss, tasting a hint of salt as the remnants of tears. Keith smiled against Lance’s lips, before sliding his hands out of Lance’s grip and walking into the other room to check on Abigail.

Lance flopped back on the bed and sighed, feeling more tears travel down his temple, dispersing in his hair.

He dug his phone out of his pocket.

To Hunka Hunka Burnin’ Love:  
 _Keith said that he wanted to take Abi and I to Florida on vacation. God, he’s honestly the sweetest._  
 _and you know what he told me the other day, that you’re the real reason why we’re together_  
 _Both you and Shay_  
 _How can I ever thank you enough???_  
 _God, I just fucking miss you so much_  
 _Like nothing feels the same without you here_  


He dropped his phone beside him on the bed, pressing his palms into his eyes. The faint sound of Keith singing to Abigail from the kitchen and Abigail’s off tune and off tempo attempts to sing along focused Lance, tethering him to the present without the weight of the cement in his bones, the casual crush of depression on his fragile body.

Slowly, ever so slowly, like rising from the grave he had dug and decorated himself, he rose from bed. Pushing open the door, he leaned against the doorframe and watched Keith dance around the kitchen with Abigail. She was carefully watching their slippered feet sliding along the wood floors while trying to sing along.

The second Abigail spotted Lance, she ran up to him, jumping at his feet with her arms raised. With a chuckle, he picked her up, enjoying the comforting weight of her in his arms and the impatient squirm of her legs in his grasp.

She planted a sloppy kiss on Lance’s cheek. “Kiss it make it better,” She cooed, and Lance nodded but he couldn’t stop the tears this time.

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


To Hunka Hunka Burnin’ Love:  
 _You wouldn’t believe it, but the couple’s therapist sided with Keith_  
 _I know exactly what you’re thinking_  
 _“What the hell!?”_  
 _I know lol_  
 _She suggested that we have Abi spend at least one weekend a month with your mom or Shiro and Allura_  
 _Because you know, having a baby in the house kind of kills your sex drive_  
 _Which I’m sure you’d be very familiar with haha_

Lance paused, sighing and holding the phone out in front of him. He typed the text message slowly, enunciating each tap of his fingers.

To Hunka Hunka Burnin’ Love:  
 _Abi is going to preschool tomorrow_  
 _I honestly can’t believe it_  
 _I’m both ready and not ready to see her go_  
 _But it also feels like something you really should be here for_  
 _I’ll send you a photo_  
 _Keith got her the most adorable Rapunzel bookbag. She couldn’t stop screaming and jumping up and down when she saw it._  
 _. . ._  
 _She still asks about you, you know_  
 _you haven’t been forgotten by anyone of us_  
 _I love you, buddy_  
 _always will_

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


Lance swore that Keith cried when they walked Abigail to the doors of the preschool and handed her off to an over-enthusiastic and smiling teacher. Abi seemed so excited before they left the house, showing off her new book bag and laughing at the way her shoes lit up with each step.

But the second they got to the school, she clung to Lance’s pant legs, little hands trembling.

Keith knelt down in front of her, “Abigail, sweetie. You’ve got to let go of Uncle Lance’s pants, okay? You’re going to have a great time, I promise.”

Head shaking, she mumbled something into the fabric of Lance’s pants. The teacher stepped forward, hands outstretched as if she could say something to calm the toddler’s fears.

“You know, we can’t hear you when you do that, Abi,” Lance instructed, pulling her back from his leg gently.

“You’ll come back for me?!” Abigail yelled, tears clouding her eyes.

“Of course, my little meatball,” Lance cheered, picking her up and swinging her legs through the air. “As if I could ever leave something so tasty behind.” Lance stuck his face into her stomach and made fake gobbling noises.

Abigail giggled, energy and joy restored as she pawed at Lance’s head. He placed her on the ground. One hand clung to Lance’s pants, looking up to Keith with a single finger pressed against her lips. Keith ruffed her hair and smiled wide, “Have a great day, sweetie.” She nodded and ran through the doors to the preschool teacher who waved goodbye to them and ushered her inside.

Turning his back to the building, Keith started marching to the train without waiting for Lance. He glanced at his husband out of the corner of his eye. “Oh my god, are you crying?”  
“No!” Keith snapped and quickened his pace so that he was walking in front of Lance, hiding his face and sorrowful expression. But he couldn’t escape his husband’s soft laughter as he followed him to the train.

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


To Hunka Hunka Burnin’ Love:  
 _Don’t believe whatever Keith tries to tell you_  
 _He totally cried when we dropped off Abi today_  
 _But don’t tell him I cried in the bathroom at work when I started looking for her in the daycare and realized she wasn’t there_

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


“No, I’m not joking Shiro,” Keith huffed, crossing his arms and plopping his feet up on his desk. Shiro stood in the doorway to his classroom, hands tucked into his pockets and a smile wide on his face. Chuckling slightly, Shiro strode into the room, placing a hand on Keith’s desk.

“Wait, let me get this straight.” Shiro cleared his throat, “You want to know how to throw a birthday party?”

Keith sighed, rubbing several fingers into his temple. “I specifically said a child’s birthday party.”

“Why don’t you ask Lance?” Shiro questioned, raising a single eyebrow, and Keith just rolled his eyes in response.

“Because you know how he’ll be.”

“And how’s that?”

Keith groaned and plopping his legs back on the floor. Propping his elbows on the table, he began to explain, “You remember my first anniversary with Lance? How I said we should do a small party or dinner or something, but instead he rented out the high school auditorium and invited 50 people to come watch a horribly embarrassing slideshow of pictures of us and eat cake.

“So when I say I don’t want to ask Lance, it’s for a very good reason,” Keith huffed.

Shiro chuckled and pulled up a chair. “Okay,” Shiro began, tapping a finger against his chin as he thought. Keith pulled out a pen and paper preparing to take notes.

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


“I planned a small birthday party for Abigail tomorrow, okay?” Keith announced while he flipped Lance’s eggs. His husband paused, hand freezing on the coffee pot that was pouring coffee into Keith’s to-go mug.

“What?” Lance was aghast, dropping the mug and coffee pot to the counter in protest, horrified that Keith had done this without him, “But I thought you said we shouldn’t do anything big. Why didn’t you say something?”

Keith looked at Lance suspiciously, answering in monotone, “Our first anniversary.”

Keith handed Lance a plate with his over easy eggs and toast while taking his own to the table. Abigail was happily munching on her breakfast - Eggo waffles with no syrup, they had learned that the hard way - eyes darting between Lance and Keith.

“Seriously?” Lance groaned, “Are you ever going to let that go? I haven’t done anything like that since!”

Keith merely raised an eyebrow.

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


To Hunka Hunka Burnin’ Love:  
 _Here’s a picture from Abigail’s 3rd birthday party! (≧◡≦)_  
 _I baked one of your cakes and she absolutely loved it_  
 _(so did everyone else)_  
 _Did I tell you that Keith planned it all without me, something about me “going overboard like always” (╥_╥) lol_

Lance smiled, shoving his phone back onto his nightstand. It was a lazy Sunday morning. A nice change of pace considering how long of a night yesterday had been. Keith had invited everyone to the party: Shiro, Allura, Pidge, Coran, Shay’s mother and father, Rax, and Mrs. Garrett and her wife.

Abigail thrived on the attention, running up to Allura to show her the plastic tea set she always played with and demanding a tea party. She was wearing the new dress Keith had bought for the occasion, and Lance was impressed at how well it fit Abigail - since Keith’s style had always been a little lackluster, to say the least. It had a white flowered bodice with capped sleeves and a powder-purple tulle skirt. Tiny multi-colored flower petals hemmed the skit, and Abigail kept playing with whenever she was asked to sit still.

Keith had only decorated with a single, simple “Happy Birthday” banner that he had hung across the kitchen, the text printed in bright purple letters. The party was a simple thing, purple plates and a small cake Keith had iced himself, purple icing staining his fingertips. It was small and quiet and everything Lance never pictured but everything he loved.

When Abigail’s two sets of loving grandparents left after giving big kisses to their granddaughter, she finally went to sleep, three hours past her bedtime. Curled up on the couch, clutching her yellow baby blanket with Rapunzel still playing. But hey, it was her third birthday.

Lance cracked open a beer, facing away from the TV while offhandedly quoting a line with perfect timing, “Where are we going?”

Keith echoed Flynn Rider’s line, leaning against the counter and reaching for Lance’s beer, “Well, best day of your life, I figured you should have a decent seat.” He took the can from Lance’s fingers, ignoring the small blush that danced up the back of his neck as he took a sip.

Pidge stood still for a moment before cackling, smile wide and mischievous. Pointing at Abigail’s sleeping figure on the couch, Lance quickly shushed Pidge. She clapped a hand over her mouth and tried to hold back her laughter as she glanced between the two fathers. “God, they’re so fucking domestic,” she mumbled to herself, not conspicuously or under her breath.

“We’ve been married for five years, Pidge.” Keith rolled his eyes, but there was a playful smirk on his face.

And despite anyone’s plans, the three of them ended up watching the rest of the movie, standing around the kitchen table and watching over the back of the couch - too nervous to disturb Abigail. Their drinks turned warm, but no one wanted to disturb the peace, the fragment of tranquility that settled around them.

Lance whispered in Keith’s ear in time with the movie, “Well, that’s the good part, I guess. You get to go find a new dream.”

Lance shook his head, smile still in place from their wonderful night last night. Glancing at his husband, still sleeping on the bed, he admired the way the blankets were tucked up to his chin and how his inky hair splayed out on the pillow like a dark nimbus. With a tentative finger, he brushed a strand of hair off Keith’s forehead. His husband sighed slightly, nuzzling his face deeper into the pillow. Lance traced more fingers through Keith’s hair, lulling him back into a deep sleep.

His phone buzzed, and he picked it up from his night stand hoping it was Allura sending him more photos from last night. His fingers froze as he unwillingly opened the message.

From Hunka Hunka Burning’ Love:  
 _Wow, she’s adorable!!_  
 _But I’m sorry, you have the wrong number_

Lance’s heart swelled and popped. Fragments of the muscle drifted to the bottom of his rib cage and settled there. He dropped his head back against the headboard with a loud thud. Squeezing his eyes closed, he fought the urge to scream at the injustices of it all.

“Fuck,” He whispered quietly enough not to wake Keith.

To Hunka Hunka Burnin’ Love:  
 _I’m sorry._  
 _Yeah, it’s now a wrong number._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwuahaha, I may have been planning that "wrong number" text since the beginning (ง ื▿ ื)ว I'll just see myself out haha
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!!
> 
> Comments and kudos mean the world to me!
> 
> You can also come scream at me on my [tumblr](https://voltronhastakenovermylife.tumblr.com)!! Give me writing prompts or something fun! Or check out my other works °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°


	5. Acceptance

###### 

There is nothing more terrifying than becoming accustomed to something that was never meant to be permanent.

  


“Abi’s with the babysitter?” Lance asked as Keith walked up to the small group. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, coat bulky and scarf itchy as he buried his face to hide from the bitter wind. Keith waved his fingerless-gloved hands, and Lance rolled his eyes.

“Yeah,” Keith grabbed his husband’s hand, “I told her we would try to be back before ten.”

“Ten?” Allura gasped, throwing her arms around both of their shoulders. “Shay would never forgive me if I let you guys leave at ten.” Her smile was mischievous as she dragged the boys closer to her face. The remnants of alcohol tinted her breathy laugh, the smell almost hidden under the floral scents of her perfume.

Placing a warm hand on Allura’s shoulder, Shiro forced a smile and a lighthearted joke, “And they would both haunt you if anything happened to Abigail.”

Shrugging off Allura’s arm, Keith pulled Lance a little closer to his side, enjoying the warmth and comforting presence of his husband. Allura smiled widely leaning back against her husband, “You’re not wrong about that.”

“Ew, if you guys are going to be all gross and couply, I’ll leave.” Pidge commented, walking up to the group, bundled in several layers of jackets with a olive vest on top that dwarfed her size since it was made for someone of much larger stature.

Lance smiled widely. “Pidge! Did you bring the stuff?”

“Of course I did.” She held out a small container filled with cookies, smirk mischievous and so much closer to the smiles Lance remembered from before a year ago. He snatched them from her hands and shoved two in his mouth at once with a small moan. Pidge shrugged, “There’s no way they’ll be better than Hunk’s, but hey I tried.”

Pulling a cookie from the container, she placed it on the gravestone next to the flowers Allura brought. Keith grabbed several more cookies, placing them in a nice arrangement around Pidge’s.

She raised her eyebrow at him.

“If you think both Shay and Hunk would share a single cookie even in the after life, you’re wrong,” Keith commented with a smile, dusting off his knees.

The group chuckled, but their smiles quickly diminished and there was a minute of silence as they all looked at each other.

“So everyone’s here,” Shiro stated, and they all looked over to the gravestone, a simple thing, not overly elegant or decorated. Hunk’s name was engraved on one side and Shay’s was on the other.

The wind howled around them, chilling and cold.

Pidge whispered quietly, “So do we talk like they’re here or what?” There was an edge to her tone, a frigid bite that came more from anxiety than honest cruelty.

Lance shrugged, feeling the weight of his phone in his pocket.

“Hey buddy,” he started, surprising everyone but Keith, who reached for his hand, squeezing tightly, “We would’ve brought Abigail, but she probably would’ve tried to climb on all of the headstones, and we don’t need anymore ghosts in our apartment.”

“Anymore?” Keith asked.

Lance just shrugged, swallowing the tightness of his chest and attempting to add an air of levity to the situation with a small joke, “The faucet is leaky and sometimes things aren’t where I left them.”

Keith narrowed his gaze, “We have a three year old, so -”

“Yeah, and that’s enough,” Lance chuckled, turning his direction back to the headstone. He pulled his hand from Keith’s and shoved it deep into his pocket, rocking back on his heels, “It’s been a long year without both of you.” His voice was thick, so he cleared his throat, looking down at the damp grass between his feet. Keith’s shoved his hand into his pocket, grabbing his with chilled fingers. “But Hunk, you - you’d be happy to know that I make Abi at least one of your recipes a week and -”

“And Shay,” Keith interjected, squeezing Lance’s fingers tightly, “Abigail has been constantly praised at school for her ability to break up fights and arguments. All of the teachers say she’s a little angel.” Keith leaned his head on Lance’s shoulder. “And she is -” Keith’s voice cracked.

“Our angel,” Lance chuckled weakly, finishing Keith’s sentence. Keith turned his face into Lance’s scarf, hiding his features from the wind and the gentle tears from his friends. He exhaled, and waited for someone else to speak.

Allura cleared her throat, and Lance noticed the way Shiro’s grip tightened on her shoulders. “Hey girlie,” she paused, looking to the sky and shaking her head. “I don’t think I can do this,” she whispered, leaning against Shiro for support. He leaned down and whispered something in her ear, words lost to the wind. Lance turned away and Pidge fiddled with her glasses.

Allura bit off a faint sob, nodding her head and stealing her expression. “I miss you more than I can possibly say.” Her words were watery, drowned in her sorrows, “Everyday there are so many times when I want to call you to talk, even about the most inconsequential things. So you’re never, _never_ far from my mind.”

“Shay,” Shiro began, but Allura’s small gasp cut him off.

“I got a tattoo for you,” Allura announced weakly, pulling up the hem of her pants to show her inner ankle. Right above the bump of her ankle, there was a small blue crystal tattooed. It was detailed, decorative, and definitely something Shay would have advocated for, holding Allura’s hand during the entire appointment as the tattoo gun buzzed and detailed Allura’s skin.

“She would’ve loved that,” Pidge whispered, leaning down to get a closer look at it. Allura smiled showing her tattoo off with a little twist of her foot. She dropped her pant, and Pidge stood up straight, sighing. “I didn’t do the robot competition this year.” She kicked at the grass and Shiro looked ready to reprimand her, but Allura’s grip was fierce on his arm.

“It was too hard to find another partner,” she shrugged and continued, “Like Matt volunteered, but he can barely solder so he’s practically useless.” She huffed a small laugh, shoulder hunched by her ears. Pushing up her glasses, she rubbed the palm of her hand against her eye. “But I promise I’ll do it this year, and I’ll take first place. Your mom gave me a box of your old designs, so I’m hoping to use one of those as inspiration. Matt helped me think of the name,” Pidge did spirit fingers as a means of introduction, “‘The Yellow Paladin.’ Pretty cool, huh?”

Her mirth faded, and she buried her hands in her pockets. A somber silence expanded between them, shattering when Pidge spoke again, “Shay, you know that Allura’s going to make me drunk off my ass tonight? I haven’t touched alcohol in months.”

“Thank god,” Lance grumbled and Keith elbowed him. Pidge shot him a dirty look, but there was a soft sense of happiness swallowed by the sullenness of the moment.

“I honestly don’t know how you kept up with her,” Pidge laughed and Allura joined in, a fragile chuckle as she leaned against Shiro. Looking back at the delicate engraving on the headstone, Pidge continued with a wry smile, “But I’ll make sure to take a shot just for you.”

“Kamikaze shot?” Allura joked and Pidge just shook her head. Stepping from Shiro’s hold, Allura hugged Pidge from behind, lithe arms wrapping around her neck. Pidge placed tentative hands on Allura’s forearms, leaning back into the gentle embrace. The exaggerated joy that Pidge had been displaying faded slightly.

And without hesitation, Shiro spoke, “You would be proud of everyone.” He ran a hand through his hair, before shoving both hands into his pockets. “Lance and Keith are going to try to deny it, but they’re doing such a good job raising Abigail,” Shiro paused, closing his eyes slowly, “in your absence. They treat her like a princess, spoiled in all the right ways.”

Keith opened his mouth to object, to say that they weren’t doing half of what they should, of what they could. That Hunk and Shay would have been a million times better, but Lance squeezed his hand and cut him off. There was a patience in his smile, and Keith understood, waiting for Shiro to continue.

“I know Pidge already mentioned looking for a new partner for that robot competition, but she didn’t say how high her standards are after working with you, Hunk.” Shiro sent a weak smile to Pidge. “And Shay,” Shiro focused his gaze on Allura before looking to the delicate engraving on the gravestone, “Allura talks about you all the time. You were such a positive influence on her.”

Another awkward silence, only filled with the rustle of trees and squelch of the damp grass beneath their feet.

“You’ve both been a positive, wonderful influence on our lives,” Shiro cleared his throat, “And I couldn’t have been more lucky that you were a part of it.

“I didn’t want to start counting years, years since you left, years without you,” Shiro scrubbed a rough finger under his eyes, “But it’s hard _not_ to differentiate between the time when we took your presence for granted and now. I know we all miss you, and I want you to be happy knowing that the only danger Abigail will face is being spoiled too much.”

Lance and Keith chuckled at that and Shiro smiled. Suddenly, they were all hugging, limbs wrapping, faces and chests pressed close. It wasn’t clear who started crying first, but like ripples in a lake, they all followed suit.

After spending an hour or so talking around the tombstones, until they began to complain about the cold or the ache of their knees, they left the cemetery, headed for Shay’s favorite bar. Lance pulled out his phone and typed a message.

To Hunka Hunka Burnin’ Love:  
[DRAFT] _It’s been a year without you. Your absences feels more acute and less all consuming then it was in the beginning. I can finally be around Abigail without constantly wanting to cry._  
_And Keith booked the plane tickets to take us to Florida this summer._  
_I made your favorite recipe for your birthday last month (which I can’t believe is your favorite, it’s so plain compared to everything else) and I made such a large batch Keith and I were eating the same leftovers for every meal for four days._  
_I’m rambling, just texting whatever thoughts jump into my mind as I’m walking down the aisle of gravestones. I just wanted to tell you that I miss you, and that you’re_ always _on my mind, and there was so much I still wanted to do with you._  
_I love you_

He exited and deleted the draft. It had taken twenty seven drunk texts to finally have the new person with Hunk’s number block him.

Keith grabbed his hand, dragging him out of his thoughts. They paused outside of Shiro’s car, the graveyard only steps behind them, and Keith whispered in Lance’s ear, “You were my new dream.” Keith pulled back with a bashful smile.

Leaning forward, Lance kissed Keith lightly on the cheek, before jumping into the car and forcing Keith to take the middle seat.

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


“Oh my god, is that Rapunzel!?!” Lance squealed, bouncing Abigail higher up on his hip.

Keith chuckled, unable to hide his smile, “Lance, it’s like you’re more excited than Abigail, and she’s literally dressed like Rapunzel.” Abigail’s mouth was open so wide and she pushed against Lance’s shoulder to get a better view over all of the people.

“Rapunzel!” Abigail shouted, pointing and squirming in Lance’s arms. “Rapunzel!!”

When it was finally their turn to approach Rapunzel, Abigail ran up with open arms and hugged her legs. Rapunzel laughed, squatting down in front of the little girl and giving her a true hug, patting a gentle hand on Abi’s back. “You look beautiful today. I love your dress. I see we both love the color purple,” Rapunzel commented, pointing at the purple dress Lance had insisted on buying for Disney. And after seeing it in the Disney store and the look on Abigail’s face, Keith couldn’t say no.

“Yeah! Purple’s my favorite,” Abigail announced, gripping the hem of her dress and spinning around.

“Abi, why don’t you sing her the song you practiced?” Lance suggested, leaning down.

“Only if you sing wif me,” Abigail demanded, clutching her dress harder and threatening to rumble the fabric. Lance smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and tugging them close together.

“Ready?” Lance asked, and Abigail nodded, looking at Lance before he started singing, “Seven AM, the usual morning lineup.” Abigail joined in, looking at Rapunzel and smiling so wide.

Keith smiled, recording the interaction on his phone and trying not to get too distracted by the soft smile on his husband’s face or the soft way he sung and encouraged Abigail when she looked to him with a slight blush on her cheeks.

When the song finished, Rapunzel clapped, smiling wide and encouraging. “That was so wonderful! I hope your dads take you to see the floating lights over Cinderella’s castle tonight.”

Lance and Keith both stiffened when she referred to them as Abigail’s fathers. She had never called them anything other than Uncle Lans and Keef.

Abigail spun around, eyes alight and roaming over Lance and Keith, “Can we?” She mumbled, suddenly shy. “Daddy?” Her eyes shifted between Keith and Lance, fists wrapped in the front of of her dress. Lance’s heart stuttered in his chest, hands falling from his knees. “Papa?” Her gaze flicked to Keith, voice a quiet whisper in the murmur of the crowd. Keith’s grip fumbled on his phone, almost sending it spiraling to the cement.

“Anything for you, honey.” Lance mumbled, voice airy and light. Keith’s chin wobbled as he nodded and ended the video of Abigail smiling so large, cheering and jumping in a circle.

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


To Hunka Hunka Burnin’ Love:  
[DRAFT] _Abigail called me Daddy for the first time in front of everyone today_  
_It was her birthday, which Keith finally let me go all out for --- well I kind of demanded that I could since he left me out of last year’s celebration planning_  
_but after Abi said it Mrs. Garrett hugged me and said that you would be happy_  
_I don’t know though._  
_I still feel so guilty but elated about the whole thing._  
_I don’t want to replace you, or what you are to her. But I want to be there for her, I want to be her father and protect her like you wanted. I want her to grow up knowing how loved she is._  
_But it’s also another reminder that you’re gone._  
_And I don’t know._  
_But I miss you, buddy._

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


Abigail’s first bike was purple, which was no surprise to anyone. Shay’s parents had given it to her for her sixth birthday. A small gift for the amount of joy she exhibited, jumping and screaming and begging for Keith to open the box.

They stood on the sidewalk as she played with the shining tassels on the handle bar. But Abigail couldn’t contain her excitement as Keith began to teach her how to ride the bike.

Keith held onto the handles, keeping her steady while she got used to the training wheels. “Keep pedaling. You got this.” Keith instructed, voice calm as he ignored Lance’s worrying glance.

He let go of the handles and watched her peddle down the street.

“I did it! I did it!” She screamed, ecstatic and eyes focused solely on the road in front of her.

Taking the training wheels off was an entirely different experience. Abigail fell and scraped her knee more times than Lance could count. Eventually, he had to stop watching them, to nervous and panicked for Abigail to be confident. But Keith’s patience never faltered, focused on keeping her upright and moving forward.

She learned to bike in no time, and Keith leaned into his husband’s embrace that night while he cried softly about how time passed and how it should have been Shay that taught Abigail to ride a bike and Hunk to bandage her knees.

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


Keith said that he wasn’t going to cry, claiming to have packed the tissues just for Lance. Which ended up being very, very necessary.

Abigail marched on stage and smiled so wide when she saw Lance waving from the audience. Keith clutched the bouquet of purple dyed carnations a little tighter in his grip.

The principal came up to the mic, tapping it several times before speaking, “Thank you all for attending! I’m sure that our little graduates are excited to be moving up in their lives and experiencing everything that middle school will bring them.”

Several other teachers gave short speeches before they handed out small certificates to all of the students. Abigail strode across the stage with a wide smile and a subtle wave to her parents as she grabbed her Elementary School Graduation Certificate.

Keith bounced his legs, anxious to leave so that he could prevent the tears that tightened his throat. Lance had been grabbing onto his arm for the majority of the ceremony, whispering commentary and sniffling into his ear.

Suddenly all of the students stood up and walked to the risers in the pit of the stage. Abigail shifted nervously in the middle of the group. The music teacher came running in front, smiling with her long skirt swirling around her feet as she pushed out an electric piano. She held up a small baton, motioning to the graduating class as she whispered several things and played a starting note on the piano. With the flick of her wrist, the students began to sing.

Keith clenched his fists and watched Abigail’s smiling face as the group sang. She was smiling, swaying back and forth with her friends on either side of her. He bit his lip and tried not to cry, but when they reached the chorus he couldn’t help but let a few tears fall.

“I’m that star up in the sky; I’m that mountain peak up high; Hey I made it; I’m the world’s greatest.”

Because to be honest, Abigail was the greatest thing that had happened to him and Lance.

After the ceremony, Lance poked him in the side, “Sure you didn’t bring those tissues for you?”

“No, I wasn’t the one crying the entire time.” Keith mumbled, holding the flowers close as the kids raced from the stage to their parents.

“You didn’t get a little misty eyed during the song?” Lance goaded, but Abigail ran up to them before Keith could think of a decent response. She hugged them tightly and buried her face in the flowers.

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


Abigail was thirteen when Lance heard her crying in the bathroom. Knocking softly on the door, he called out, “Abi, honey. Are you okay? What’s going on?”

Her sniffling stopped, and he could heard small pacing footsteps on the other side of the door. He could feel the panic rising in his blood, and every horrifying image of every worst case scenario ran through his mind. He knocked more harshly on the bathroom door, “Abigail! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Dad,” she whispered through the door.

“What’s going on?” Lance mimicked her tone, keeping his voice soft compared to the panic-stricken tone he had just used earlier. “You sound upset, honey.”

He heard her shift on the other side of the door and the muffled mumble of her words.

“Sorry, but I didn’t catch that. What did you say?”

She mumbled again, but louder this time, a slurred several syllables.

“Can you open the door Abi? I can’t hear you,” Lance stated, placing a palm against the front of the door.

It was ripped out from under his hand. Abigail stood before him, eyes red-rimmed and face blotchy with blush. Her hair was wild around her shoulders as she screamed, “ _I got my period!_ ” And then she slammed the door in his face.

“Oh,” Lance breathed. He shifted his feet, “Oh - oh okay. Um, I’ll - I’ll go get you some supplies and stuff.” Lance began pacing in front of the door, “Do you know what you want? Should I get you anything in particular or -”

“Dad!” She yelled, gently hitting the door.

“Okay. Yep. Leaving now!” Lance announced, walking into his bedroom to see Keith just stepping out of the shower. “Abigail just got her first period.”

Keith blanched, “Oh.”

Lance paced around the room, hands running through his hair and a constant mumble of ideas spilling from his lips. He plucked his phone from his pocket, dialing one of his speed dials, and placed the phone against his ear.

“What, Lance?”

“Abi got her first period, and I have no idea what to do.”

“Nope,” Pidge chirped, “I love Abi, but I am not talking about this with you. Bye.”

And Lance looked up at Keith who was just pulling on a comfortable t-shirt. His face was aghast, and Keith tried not to laugh, mostly because he didn’t know how to cope with this either.

“She hung up.”

Keith did laugh at that, because Lance was delusional if he thought Pidge would want to talk about periods. Lance pouted, looking at his phone.

“Try Allura?” Keith suggested, drying out the dripping ends of his hair.

Allura was over their place in thirty minutes with a whole bag of supplies that ranged from tampons and pads to chocolate and a heating pad. The dads just left the girls in the bathroom, sitting at the kitchen table with a blank stare on their faces.

Lance looked up, “Do you think we should throw a party or something?”

“Absolutely not.”

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


“Keith, I don’t think I can eat another cupcake,” Lance groaned, rolling over on the couch. Keith laughed from his seat at the table, slashing another red pen across a student’s paper.

“Dad!” Abigail whined from the kitchen, “You know that Papa doesn’t like sweets, and I need to make sure the recipe is perfect before the competition.” She turned to face him with a bright smile and a perfectly iced cupcake. She walked over to the living room couch with a pleading smile on her face, “Please?”

Lance groaned before he sat up and took a huge bite of the desert. He moaned and he wasn’t even positive if it was out of pain or ecstasy. But one bite was all he could take before, placing it back on the plate, “It was delicious, just like the last five.”

“That’s not helpful, Dad,” Abigail reprimanded.

“Abi, honey,” Lance leaned back on the couch, rubbing his stomach, “How about we invite over everyone for a cupcake tasting party so you don’t kill me?” He laughed when Abigail gasped and jumped for her phone.

“Can Allura and Shiro and Pidge come too?” She asked, quickly texting some of her friends.

Keith laughed, taking a large sip of coffee. “Only if you prepare enough cupcakes. Don’t underestimate Pidge’s appetite.”

And at the sound of cupcakes everyone was gathered at Keith and Lance’s house within the hour. They tasted all of Abigail’s different cupcake recipes for the county’s Middle School Academic Baking Competition. At the end of the party, Pidge sat surrounded by cupcake wrappers with a content smile on her face. Allura stood in the kitchen, flipping through Hunk’s cookbook. The edges were worn and stained and several pages had been bent from Keith marking his favorite recipes. It was well loved and frequently used.

Abigail stood by her shoulder, looking at the book and pointing at recipes. She sighed, “I just want it to be different from his recipes, you know? Show him that I can do better.” Her smile was weak before Shiro clapped her on the shoulder.

“You’re already doing amazing,” he encouraged. Allura nodded in agreement, picking up a lick of icing on her finger and sucking on it.

“Yeah,” Pidge confirmed from her perch at the kitchen table, “Definitely enough to win first place in the competition!” There was a chorus of cheers in agreement to follow her statement. “Let's do a toast with another cupcake,” she proposed raising another cupcake in the air to a chorus of very full groans.

But Abigail didn’t win the competition. Didn’t even place in the top three. Keith was at a loss for what to say; he never was the most eloquent, always looking to Lance for support and to speak the words he couldn’t articulate. But sometimes there wasn’t anything right to say, so Lance pulled Abigail close after the competition, holding her tight as she muffled her sobs.

They put Hunk’s cookbook away for the longest time since he had passed, tucked in one of the many kitchen drawers.

But a month or so later, Keith and Lance came back from work to find Abigail standing in the kitchen whisking batter. Her smile was weak but determined all the same. Keith pulled up a chair and Lance dipped his finger in the batter to the small shriek of protest from Abigail. The fathers smiled wide and gladly taste tested everything she presented.

Only a couple weeks later, she decided she was going to be a chef. Lance nodded and suppressed his tears until that night when him and Keith were cuddling.

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


“Keith, put that away,” Lance growled, cleaning off the lens of his camera.

Keith humphed, not taking his eyes off the decorative knives and cleaning cloth he had laid out on the table. “Why should I?” He absent-mindedly cleaned his favorite knife, looking for his reflection in the metal.

“You’ve had all day or all week or literally any other time to clean your knives or shine them or whatever,” Lance snapped. “Why do you insist on doing it now? Abigail’s date is going to be here any second.”

“Lance,” Keith looked at him with a dead-eyed stare perfected from students constantly disappointing him, “That’s precisely the point.”

The doorbell rang and Abigail came bounding down the stairs. “Oh my gosh, he’s here,” she hissed, rounding the stairs and skidding into the kitchen. “How do I look?” Her chestnut eyes were wide and lined with a thin paint of eyeliner. Her midnight brown hair was curled lightly and tucked behind her ears. She was wearing a casual purple dress that cinched at her waist and flowed around her thighs.

“You look too young to have a date,” Keith mumbled before Lance slapped him on the shoulder.

“I’m fifteen, Papa,” Abigail grumbled under her breath.

“You look beautiful, honey,” Lance answered.

Abigail caught sight of Keith’s knife collection out on the table with a gasp. “Papa, what are you doing?!” she exclaimed, pointing at the table.

The doorbell rang again, and Lance went to answer it, rubbing at his temples and ignoring the hushed bickering from the kitchen. A tall boy stood in front of him. Blond hair casually gelled back and wide eyes, blue and searching. He wore a simple blue button down with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of dark wash jeans.

The second Lance opened the door, he stood taller and stuttered with his words, “Oh, um Mr. McClain?”

Lance smiled. “You can just call me Lance.” He stuck out his hand and the boy shook it with a sweaty palm. “Why don’t you come in? Abigail and her father are waiting in the kitchen.”

“Yes, thank you.” The boy nodded his head so enthusiastically even Lance felt dizzy just watching.

“Oh, and please don’t mind Keith. I swear he’s harmless,” Lance laughed, taking the boy’s coat and draping it on the coat rack.

The boy laughed nervously, scratching at the back of his neck. “I was actually so nervous - am still nervous,” he babbled, eyes glancing over their humble home, “I mean when Abi said that she had two dads, I could only think of the terrifying warnings I was going to get. But you’re pretty cool, Mr. McClain - I mean, Lance.”

Lance stopped directing the boy towards the kitchen. Breath stilling as he turned to face Abigail’s first date, “I may not be as intimidating as Keith, but mark my words boy, if you hurt Abigail in any way, you _will_ suffer for it.” Lance watched the boy’s blushing cheeks lose all color. He clamped his jaw shut and nodded in agreement.

Lance smiled and marched them forward into the kitchen, “Look who I found!”

The boy stopped in the threshold to the kitchen, seeing Abigail hold three of Keith’s knives in her hands while Keith polished another one with a devilish smirk. Lance had to hold her date up a little as his knees went weak.

Abigail dropped the knives to the table, blushing and shoving her hands behind her back. “Oh, hi Jason.”

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


The laughter abruptly stopped once they unlocked the door and strode into the house. Keith furrowed his eyebrows as Lance marched forward, kicking his shoes off by the door and hanging his coat.

“Abigail,” Lance hollered, “We’re back.”

She skidded to a stop in the threshold to the kitchen, glass in hand. Her friend, Anjali, almost crashed into her, running behind her so fast. With a second thought, she hid the drink behind her back and smiled widely, almost sloppily.

“You - you weren’t supposed to be home for another hour,” Abigail mumbled, words enunciated and thick in her throat.

“Dinner ended early,” Keith commented, suspicion tinting his tone as he walked forward, ushering the girls backward into the kitchen.

Lance picked up on his Keith’s suspicions, plucking the glass from behind Abigail’s back. Abigail turned quickly attempting to snatch the glass from her dad’s hands.

He held it up, eying her apprehensively as he took a giant swig. Abigail looked terrified, stepping backward until she bumped against the kitchen table. Closing his eyes and while waiting a moment for his anger to steady, Lance slowly swished the liquid in the glass. Gently, he set it down on the table.

“Anjali, I think it’s best that you call your parents to pick you up.” Lance commented, pushing the glass toward Keith. Without having to taste it, Keith already knew what it was without having to taste it. He could smell the stench of cheap alcohol wafting from it as he picked the glass up. “Abigail, can we speak in the other room, please?”

She had the decency to act ashamed, following her fathers with eyes downcast and hands folded. Lance sat in the desk chair, legs crossed and tone firm, “Would you like to explain yourself?”

Keith didn’t trust himself to talk, knew that Lance was better at these kinds of things. He sat on the edge of the desk, arms crossed and gaze fixated on Abigail. His fingers were a white knuckle grip on his arms and his teeth ground noisily.

She didn’t meet their eyes, dragging her foot along the floor, “Everyone talks about drinking, and we wanted to try too.”

“You’re seventeen Abigail! Who talks about drinking?” Lance asked.

“Every other person in school,” she exclaimed, looking to Keith like he could understand, since they were both constantly surrounded by high schoolers. “I just wanted to know what it was like. I obey every other stupid rule you have, but the one time I want to try something -”

“If all of your peers decided to jump off a cliff, would -”

“Would you jump to?” Abigail mocked, cutting off Lance and crossing her arms in a huff. “God Dad, can you at least appreciate that I was doing it in the house with no plans to go out or anything? At least I was being safe, right? Or does that mean _nothing_ to you?”

Lance ground his teeth, but it was Keith who spoke more calmly than anyone expected. There was still an edge to his tone, a darkness that belied simmering rage and empty nights, “Abigail, you know why this is a sensitive topic for us, right?”

The memories of 3am phone calls and drunk drivers and screams and tears and so many many broken promises made shards of ice form in Keith’s blood, even after fifteen years.

“Yes, we appreciate that you were safe, but we would like you to not endanger yourself at all.” Keith bit his lip and exhaled a steadying breath. Lance placed a calming hand on Keith’s elbow.

He spent a minute to gather his thoughts, thinking of all of the times he drank as a teenager. How he had rummaged through high school and foster homes and made a mess of everything until college, until Lance. So he understood Abigail and understood the hardness in Lance’s glare.

Keith forcibly relaxed his hands and the tightness of his jaw, smiling weakly before continuing. “We love you, Abi. You’re our daughter, and we wouldn’t change that for the world. But it doesn’t change how you became our daughter.” Keith cleared his throat and fought to swallow the constricting feeling of tears, “We still - still love Hunk and Shay. And every day we can see more of their amazing characteristics in you. We just want to protect you and give you everything that we didn’t have growing up.”

Abigail’s chin trembled, and she chewed on her bottom lip, looking up to the ceiling like she was struggling not to cry. Standing slowly, Lance walked to Abigail’s side, wrapping her in his lithe arms. And without another breath, she started crying.

Giving them a couple of minutes to calm down, Keith walked into the living room and saw Anjali off when her parents came to pick her up. He didn’t explain what had happened, giving some “family emergency” reason as an excuse of the slumber party cut short. Before the car door closed, he gave Anjali a pointed look in reprimand.

When Keith walked back into the office, Abigail and Lance had cuddled on the floor, leaning against the wall. Her head was tucked under his arm, eyes closed and serene. Lance trailed absent-minded fingers through her midnight-brown hair.

Keith sat on the other side of the them, bringing one knee into his chest and closing his eyes.

“Can you tell me about them?” Abigail whispered.

“Of course,” Lance answered immediately, “You know you can always ask us.” His voice was thick with emotion. “So what do you want to know?”

“Anything,” She hummed against Lance’s shirt.

Keith chuckled lightly, leaning his head back against the wall, “Just don’t get him started on freshman year of college or you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Abigail laughed and Lance joined in, tossing his head back and laughing wholeheartedly. “I would love to hear it.”

So Lance talked and Keith joined in, rehashing the details in a different - possibly more truthful - light than Lance. They talked and talked and talked until the first inklings of dawn peered through the window.

Keith and Lance walked Abigail to her room, watching her crawl into bed with a content smile. “Goodnight, Abi.”

“Goodnight,” she breathed.

“You know you’re grounded, right?”

“I know.”

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


“You promise you don’t know anything?” Lance asked, pacing the foyer and playing with the camera lens.

Keith crossed his arms, irritation furrowing his brow. “For the thousandth time, no. She went shopping with Allura.” He shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t even know what color it is.”

Lance scoffed, finally stopping his pacing, “That’s obvious.” Keith smiled and agreed.

“It’s obviously blue.”  
“It’s obviously red.”

They paused, looking at each other with narrowed eyes. The doorbell rang and without thought, Keith ripped it open, “What?!”

A young man in a black and white suit stood tall, blond hair styled with gel and small corsage of a purple dyed carnation with baby’s breath in hand. He smiled bright looking up at Lance and Keith. Shaking Lance’s extended hand, he spoke, “Mr. McClain and Mr. Kogane, it’s good to see you.”

“Jason,” Lance said, turning at the sound of heels on the stairs.

Abigail was a vision. She held onto the railing of the stairs and slowly descended, heels clicking with each step. The silver of her shoes peeked out when she took a step. The bodice of the dress was strapless, a small ‘v’ beginning the ruching pattern that ended at a silk belt wrapped around her waist. The skirt was ethereal, floating around her like purple mist.

“You look radiant, Abi” Lance admitted, placing a steadying hand on Keith’s shoulder.

“Very elegant,” Keith managed, before Lance turned on the camera and instructed her to stay on the steps so he could take pictures.

Abigail smiled and laughed at Lance’s jokes. Her hair was pinned back with glinting silver bobby pins, cascading over her shoulder in a waterfall of curls. She was the picture of excellence.

Jason cleared his throat, “I don’t mean to rush, but the limo’s waiting to take us to pictures.”

Abigail nodded, grabbing her silver clutch out of Keith’s hand. She had already walked down the stoop before, turning back and giving each of her fathers a kiss on the cheek. “You’re coming for pictures, right?”

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Lance announced, locking up the house behind him as they followed Abigail to the limo, tulle skirt billowing around her legs.

They watched the limo drive away, talking quietly with each other.

“Hunk would’ve cried.”

“Oh, definitely. And Shay would have demanded a floral pattern or at least more beading or applique.”

“And Shay would’ve never have let you pick out this boutonniere,” Keith commented, holding up the plastic box to show a gaudy white rose with silken petals and a bedazzled stem and glittered baby’s breath. “It’s honestly hideous.”

Lance laughed, plucking the box from Keith’s hands. “And Hunk and Shay would’ve never been late to pictures. So let’s go, slowpoke!” Lance announced, jumping down the last few stairs of their stoop and marching down the sidewalk.

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


“You’re not going to cry, right Lance? Because I can take the camera.”

Lance shifted in his seat, the auditorium uncomfortably chilly for his khaki shorts and blue dress shirt. “I make no promises.” He held up the camera, recording as the students filed into the seats in the front auditorium.

There were several welcoming speeches until the head of the culinary arts department cleared their throat at the podium, “Now we’ll have our guest speaker, Abigail Garrett, come forward.”

There was a smattering of applause as she rose from her seat in the front row and walked to the podium, the perfect picture of grace. She smiled broadly, “My father once said, ‘Seeing the joy on a customer’s face is every reward a chef could ask for.’”

Lance reached out an unsteady hand to grab Keith’s. Tightly squeezing back, Keith watched Abigail smile under the bright lights, graduation cap slightly tilted to the side.

“Unfortunately my father passed away when I was two, but I was left with a cookbook of his. I’ve never felt closer to him then when I followed his recipes; it was like getting to see into his mind. And sometimes that was frustrating, beyond frustrating. But it was also one of the most beautiful experiences I’ve ever had.

“But I loved his recipes and wanted to be a chef since before I can remember, so I entered a baking competition.” Abigail smiled at the small groan from the crowd of graduates, “I wanted to use one of his recipes, and I lost. It made me want to quit altogether, to eat cup noodles for the rest of my life because I didn’t want to cook anymore. But I couldn’t just quit, not on my dream, not on the people who supported me and ate all of my disgusting experiments. So I picked up that cookbook and tried again.”

Keith carefully took the camera out of Lance’s shaking hands.

“Cooking can make a profound impact on someone’s life. Whether they are starving and haven’t eaten or someone who just needs a little indulgence and love.” She smiled brightly, “And we can provide that. It’s our job as culinary graduates from Altea University to provide the world with a type of joy they didn’t know they could ask for, to provide a little love in everything we make.”

She seemed to stand up a little taller, looking over the group of graduating students, “So as we all head out into the world, I want us all to remember to be the people who bring love into this world. In the words of Eugene Fitzherbert from Tangled, ‘Well, that’s the good part I guess. You get to go find a new dream.’ Find your new dream, and never give up because the world needs people like you.”

With a small nod, she finished her speech, “Thank you.”

Lance stood up, clapping as loudly as he could and Keith hid his tears behind the camera.

  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


  


**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

  


To Hunka Hunka Burnin’ Love:  
[DRAFT] _The saying “time heals all wounds” isn’t really accurate now that I think about it. The wounds never fully heal. They’re always present, but as time goes on it becomes easier to talk about, to remember._  
_So, we’ll always miss you, buddy._  
_There are still days twenty five years later, when I try to text or call you or think about recipes or jokes or TV shows or songs or places or experiences or literally anything that you would have loved. And I want to tell you all about them._  
_But I do want to thank you for entrusting Abi to us. She’s an angel and you would be so fucking proud of her. She’s more amazing than words, and I know that you would have loved to watch her grow up. I know that you would have been a better father to her, but I am still forever grateful that you brought her into our lives. She makes everything worth it some days._  
_And on the days when I miss you the most, I look at photos of her and her smile that still looks so much like yours, and I feel a little closer to you._  
_And she makes your recipes so much better than Keith or I ever could. It’s like a little piece of heaven, a little piece of you._  
_So I miss you and love you so much buddy, but thank you. Thank you for giving me the most amazing family._  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was definitely my favorite chapter to write! It had all of my favorite moments with Keith and Lance bonding with Abi!
> 
> Special special shoutout to Denise for doing the artwork for this fic for the Dragon Klance Big Bang!! You can look at the artwork [here](http://redbookpanda.tumblr.com/post/168837075416/my-art-for-the-klbb2ds-it-was-so-much-fun-to) or check out her [tumblr](http://redbookpanda.tumblr.com)!!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this fic and the emotional rollercoaster I took us on!
> 
> Comments and kudos mean the absolute world to me!! <3
> 
> You can also come scream at me on my [tumblr](https://voltronhastakenovermylife.tumblr.com)!! Give me writing prompts or something fun! Or check out my other works °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so so so much for reading! Comments and kudos mean the world to me <3
> 
> And a special shout out to Denise who was my artist for this Dragon Klance Big Bang! She has been absolutely amazing!! <3


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